The Via Crucis Trilogy
by Mirrordance
Summary: Three stories in three chapters, one lesson: love can kill.
1. Default Chapter

Author: Mirrordance

e-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com

title: Mane, Thecel, Phares (prequel to Via Crucis)

type: series

warnings: angst, language, violence, yaoi

spoilers: with references throughout entire series

teaser: how is a traitor made?

Keywords: Ran, Ken, Weiß, Schwarz

"Mane, Thecel, Phares"

a WKff by Mirrordance

don't own anybody…

      His English Lit teacher said, that a lot of authors make use of an element called Foreshadowing.  A hint, a clue of what may lie ahead.

      Omi Tsukiyono wondered, if the characters at the mercy of a writer felt as he had that night, at the mercy of God.  That something big was going to happen.  Something that could turn everything around.

      "Com check," he said again, tiredly and exasperatedly.  It was a tough mission, further hardened by the presence of scramblers within the compound White Cross were infiltrating to steal some information.  They have been on a communication blackout for about fifteen minutes now.  A minor eternity, for a battle.

      He muttered under his breath, tinkering in his trusty laptop, hoping to break the scramble for the nth time now.  

      Finally, a breakthrough.

      "Mission accomplished," Abyssinian's voice said over the com, breaking out of the damning static the group has been plagued with for most of the mission.

      "Great," mumbled Omi, just as he had it fixed.  Terrific timing as usual, Tsukiyono.  He settled in his hiding place, making himself comfortable as he awaited the return of his teammates.  He had been assigned just outside the compound to take care of the scramblers.

      The first one who emerged was Yoji Kudo.  A lanky blond with an indulgent smile, that he favored the youngest member of Weiß with as he approached, walking as if he had all the time in the world.  He was one of the three other members who stormed their way into the compound and split up to divide and conquer the guards as well.

      "A lot of help you were," teased Yoji.

      Omi snorted.  Right.

      "Balinese is already at the rendezvous point," Omi said.

      "Yeah," Yoji added, "it would be extremely nice if you busted your ass a little and hurry up, Siberian, Abyssinian.  So we can go home"

      Pause.

      "Siberian's not there?" asked Abyssinan, sounding surprised.

      "Not yet," Omi said, fidgeting a little.  Is this where the life-altering, plot-turning part comes along? He hoped not.

      "He's not here," said Abyssinian.  "Siberian if you can hear me, respond.  Immediately"

      Pause.

      A curse.

      "I'm going back in," Yoji said, green eyes hardening as he steeled himself back into combat mode.

      "Both of you stay the hell where you are," ordered Abyssinian, "we can't all get fucking lost.  Keep the lines open.  If he's in here, I'll find him."

      But he didn't.

      He hadn't found Siberian's body, living or dead.

      And he scoured the place, turned it upside down in his search, at first cool and methodical, ending frantically and desperately.

      Abyssinain--Ran Fujimiya, had the face of a lost child, standing in the middle of a warehouse devoid of any other life apart from his own.

      "He's not here," he said breathlessly into the com, "he's not anywhere."

      It was so much nicer to think that he just… walked away from them.  Turned his back on them.  Left them in the middle of an operation, covered his tracks, then went as far away as he could from a life that dirtied his hands with blood each night, imprinting them on the ridges on his fingers.

      But Siberian… he wasn't like that at all.  Siberian may have had the capacity to kill his best friend, but he was also Ken Hidaka, who had mourned for him endlessly.  Siberian was an efficient assassin, but Ken Hidaka could put up a flower arrangement, teach kids soccer, and was clumsy enough to continually keep creating minor disasters at home.  They were one and the same and yet so different.

      Ran missed… both of him.  

      How much time has passed by since the three men decided to leave that compound, missing one of their own? But a day? Seemed longer.  Seemed so much, infinitely longer…

      Was he dead by now? Did I, by chance, miss a spot? I think I've looked everywhere.  Maybe I missed a spot.  Maybe he ran away.  Maybe he's alive somewhere, captured, tortured, beaten…

      Ran growled and shook the picture of the vibrant soccer player bleeding and in chains from his head.  Not now.  This isn't the place for this.

      He was cocooned in his own brand of misery, surrounded by female voices.  Heard his name spoken once in awhile, indiscreet whispers and ineffectively lowered voices.

      On the other side of the room, Omi was also bothered by the mysterious loss of their comrade, but was more polite to the women.  Yoji was doing some half-hearted, reflex-driven pick-ups, but the smile he favored his new 'target' with couldn't seem to reach his eyes, uncovered by the sunglasses hovering near the tip of his nose.

      Ran noted them vaguely.  Weiß was working on it.  Manx ordered them to make it their first priority-- missing agents was a definite danger; were they traitors? Were they hostages? The answers were so much more important than the actions that would follow it.  If Ken were caught by their enemies, no negotiations would be made.  It was the risk agents took, to forfeit their own lives in favor of the greater good.  Ran hoped they wouldn't have to make that decision.  To just let him die…

      "I'm going out," Ran said suddenly, to no one in particular.  He had to get some air.  He tore off his apron and headed out the door.

      He found himself drifting to the park.

      This is one of Ken's haunts, Ran thought fondly, absently.  He wondered what Ken liked about it.  All these people, bathed in the sun, smiles on their faces...

      Or, maybe, he wondered why he disliked it so much.  These people didn't know a thing about life, they didn't know shit about anything.

      Children's laughter.  Ah… a soccer game.  Ken should have been here.  Three siblings moved out of town, so Coach Ken had to go scout for new members of his team.  Ken had been talking about it to Omi and Yoji and maybe Ran too, except the redhead pretended to look disinterested and eventually, Ken just excluded him out of the conversation because of his embarrassment.

      Maybe he shouldn't be here after all…

      Weiß was supposed to be nothing but a stepping stone for him.  The way by which he could get to Takatori, the powerful murderer who had slain his parents and hurt his sister.  They weren't supposed to be anything but that.  He tried to distance himself from his three teammates, he really had.

      And yet here he was…

      Ken, where are you…?  
      What are you doing? You're not supposed to be feeling this way…

      But from the very beginning, the soccer player had pierced into his hardened shell.  They had fought, Ran remembered, an involuntary smile teasing his lips.  It was some welcome into the team.

      It only got better from there.  Yoji, the off-handed mother hen.  Omi, the kid genius.  But there had been more depth.  Ran suddenly realized that the world didn't revolve around him and his vengeance.  Omi had to kill his own brothers, as well as being without parents and half of his memory.  Ken killed his own best friend, who had betrayed him.  Yoji had lost every woman he has ever truly loved, either by someone else's hand and once, even by his own.  

      Ken, where are you…?

      Why had the loss of the soccer player given him a different pang then he would have thought he could have for the others, somehow? He cared for each of the three equally as friends and yet…

      Maybe it was just that there was a lack of finality in the situation.  Was finding out he was dead better than never to find out about him at all? Yes, that had to be it.  He couldn't possibly…?

      Yes, he couldn't possibly.  This was Ken, for crying out loud and… he was him.  Both of them were male, as if it mattered because anyway, Ran Fujimiya couldn't love.

      Nature couldn't possibly let any of it be.

      He headed back to the shop.

      The first few moments of it was like zooming through a whirlwind.  A blast of cold, frigid air in a dim gray.

      It was hard to breathe here, in this freezing, dry air.  Schuldich nearly quit, his lungs burning, before he got to where he wanted to go.

      A total contradiction, he landed in a desert.  Wide and infinite.  Mountains of sand, an eternal sun hanging overhead, though pleasantly warm (anything was, now, compared to that hailstorm he just braved).

      "Where are you?" he asked softly, though his voice echoed through the desert, his mind calling to the consciousness that should be here somewhere…

      There.

      Ran Fujimiya appeared, as a mirage, in the near distance.  He stood cautiously under a tree by an oasis.  He had the face of a man who wondered if he was dreaming.

      Schuldich smirked.  This is as real as it can get, Abyssinian.  He headed toward the tall redhead, stopping just in front of him.  

      "Is this your happy place?" sneered Schuldich.

      Fujimiya frowned.  "My what?"

      Schuldich looked around.  "Every person has one, deep in their minds.  This one place they go to find peace, control"

      Fujimiya looked around too.  "I'm not happy," he pointed out, still wondering if this was some kind of a weird dream, or if there really was an intruder in his mind, a genuine possibility except they hadn't heard from Schuldich or the rest of his troop in ages.

      The hesitations reverberated in Schuldich, the mind-reader's head.  He found it prudent to reply.  "Yes, I am an intruder"

      Ran's eyes narrowed, calculated and decided to play out this line.  "What the hell are you up to now?"

      "You'd better be nice," sneered Schuldich, "I went to a lot of trouble to get here" Yes, the defenses earlier on had been extremely difficult to get through.

      "No one invited you"

      Schuldich laughed.  "Well, that's true too"  
      Silence.  One that Ran was determined to keep.

      Sculdich sighed.  "All right, all right, here it is.  I want you to do something for me"

      The desert darkened noticeably just as Ran's mood did.  "The only thing I would want to have anything to do with you is to kill you"

      "Apparently," Schuldich said, looking around the desert.  

      Ran seemed to take stock of it just now.  He tried to calm himself.  "I'll have nothing to do with you.  Because I don't want to, I don't have to, and I don't have the time to"

      "I think you'll do it," Schuldich said confidently.

      "You're wrong," Ran said venomously, his spine tingling at why the German was so sure of himself.

      "You want something I have"

      "No more games, Schwarz," Ran growled, sensing what was coming.  "Just tell me straight out what the hell you want with me"

      "I want you to spy on Kritiker for me," Schuldich said, "in exchange for the life of one Siberian"

      Sandstorm.

      The winds howled viciously as the conflict arose in Ran's mind.  The two men stood in the eye of the storm, wary but untouched.  

      "We are affiliated to the company you stole the information from the night Siberian disappeared," said Schuldich, "We saw an opportunity, took Siberian out and kept him for our own uses.  In the least, we can sell him to the company you stole from and make a neat profit.  But I thought we'd come to you first, and find out the secrets of Kritiker"

      "Why bother?" fumed Ran, "Why ask me? Just look into my mind, damnit, that's all there is"

      "Power," said Schuldich, "is a useful tool.  I have plenty.  I've used it all to get everything I ever wanted.  It gets boring after a time.  And… it never got YOU, did it? It never defeated Weiß"

      Ran's eyes narrowed in irritation.  "I'll consult with the rest of Weiß"

      "No," Schuldich countered, "Let's keep this between you and me.  You are not to tell anyone, if you agree.  And remember… I can always look into your mind.  Any trace there of your having betrayed our secret, you can say goodbye to Siberian.  Not only will he not die quickly, I'll even grant you a front seat watching it, and plague you in your dreams"

      "Why me?" Ran asked, his mouth dry, fearing the answer.

      "I think you know why," Schuldich said blandly.

      Suddenly, the storm died down to an eerie, quiet calm.

      "I'll think about it," Ran said tightly.

      Schuldich looked around the calm desert.  

      "I think you've already made up your mind"

_______

      Had it been a dream?

      He hoped; but Ran Fujimiya was nothing if not practical.  It had been real.  Brutally, honestly real.

      "I think you've already made up your mind," the German said.  And it was true, though Ran was grateful that his enemy backed off and gave him the time he asked to think about it.

      He was going to make a deal with the devil himself.

      The day went by in a haze.

      Lucky for him, Yoji and Omi decided not to probe into the nuances of his mood, at the threat of his piercing violet glare.  

      He prayed the day would end swiftly, just bring him whatever hell it was his decision would lead to.  But at the same time he prayed it would last forever, so he wouldn't have to reach that dreaded time when he would tell his enemy that they had an Agreement.  Nothing made sense anymore…

      In the middle of a flower arrangement, he suddenly found himself laughing.  Softly and bitterly.  His ivory hands shook in front of his swimming vision.  

      Schuldich is mastering the art that has long been eluding great, sinister minds that came before him.

      How do you make a traitor?

      You make him love.  Then you make him lose.  Then you catch him somewhere in between--

      Wait.

      Love? Did he just THINK that?

      "Ran…" Yoji muttered from the corner of his mouth, looking at the redhead anxiously.  "Ran…"  
      "It's nothing," Ran said easily, eyes glinting up in mischief at the tall blonde.  Does he know, Ran wondered, that he is looking into the face of a traitor? 

      "Maybe you'd better take a break," Yoji said nervously, "um…"

      "It's nothing," Ran said again, coldly now.  You're fucking blind, Kudo.  My world just changed.  Can't you see it?

      "We'll find Ken, all right?" Yoji told him in a low, determined voice, "I swear it.  Weiß… we take care of our own"  
      "We'll find him?" Ran asked skeptically.

      "Yes," Yoji replied.

      "We?" Ran repeated, laughter bubbling up within him again.

      "Yes!" Yoji said, starting to get very annoyed.

      Ran laughed at him.  Then stopped and just decided to ignore the blonde.  Life is simpler in your world.  

      No betrayals.  

      No betrayers.

      And no love that has to span an eternity just to… be.

      Wait.

      Love? Did he just THINK that?

      This is like a recurring nightmare.

      Let the day last.

      Let the day end.

      Just get me out of here…

      Desert.

      Dry, desolate.  

      Decided.

      "There's no one else here," Schuldich complained to Ran, wrinkling his nose at the Japanese man.

      "What?" Ran asked impatiently.

      "There's no one else here," Schuldich repeated, "there's got to be someone else here.  It's your Happy Place, for crying out loud.  I thought I'd find your sister, at least"

      --

      "Well?" pressed Schuldich, "Don't be shy.  I want to know why you're alone here and why you aren't happy in your Happy Place"  
      --

      "I can always pick your mind apart," Schuldich said thoughtfully, "play with it piece by piece, find out everything that I want--"  
      "No one else," Ran cut him off, "deserves to be here with me"  
      "Aren't we masochistic"  
      --

      "Anyway," said Schuldich, "I guess it's just weird that no one else is here.  I took a little tour, you know.  Happened to be in the neighborhood"

      "Fuck"

      Schuldich grinned.  "So.  What's your choice?"  
      "You know what my choice is"  
      "I want to hear you say it"

      --

      "I'll be your mole," Ran spat, "Just give him back.  Alive, safe and happy"

      "I'm not so sure about the happy part--"  
      "When?" Ran pressed, "When do you bring him back? How? What are your goddamn rules?"  
      "You give me everything you know about Kritiker freely for a week," Schuldich said, "Then you'll get him back"  
      "He's going to wonder why you set him free," Ran said uneasily.

      "Yes," agreed Schuldich, "You wouldn't, by any chance, mind if I tell him he's free because of your duplicity, would you?"  
      "Bastard"  
      Schuldich laughed.  "Thought so.  Well.  I'll think of something.  But you'll get your Siberian back, I promise.  And without him knowing about your dirty little part in it.

      "Isn't this fun?" Schuldich sneered, his eyes glinting in acid triumph, "We've become accomplices"  
      Ran stared at him, trying to probe into his face.

      "What's the point?" he asked the German, "You can do this without me.  Why do you hate us so much?"  
      --

      Why indeed? 

      "You and your kind stand up for everything that I've never known," Schuldich said darkly, "Where were you when I was the one who was in need? You and your kind stand up for everything that isn't supposed to be.  Survival of the fittest.  We have the power, not you.  Why…?"  
      Schuldich paused, catching himself.  Then grinned.  "Well.  As they say.  Shit happens, right?"

      Ran stared at him.  Nodded in agreement.

      "I'll leave you now so you can think about your sins," said Schuldich.

      "Wait," called Ran belatedly, "You'll stick by your word?"  
      Schuldich looked at him closely.  Frowned.

      "You're pathetic," the German said, before leaving.

      But somehow, Ran sensed he would keep his end of the bargain.

      Yoji mulled over a bouquet of gentians that he was arranging for a woman who had asked for Ken.

      "He's sick," Yoji said evasively.  A few days ago, Omi had told someone Ken was on a date.  Before that, the excuse had been that he was on vacation.  It changed everyday, almost, depending on the mood of whomever was asked.  Lately, the excuses have been getting more and more morose.

      Yoji handed the bouquet to the woman who smiled at him shyly.  "Give it to Ken," she said as she paid, "Tell him I hope he feels better"  
      Yoji watched her leave the shop.  Counted to ten in his head before he placed the bouquet in the fridge, with four others.  Weiß will sell them again, because business is business.  He had no qualms about shitting at sentimentality.  He liked to think that it was all he was forsaking.  He didn't want to think he'd do it because the one the flowers were meant for wasn't going to come back anyway…

      They didn't even have a fragment of a lead in this case.  Ken just vanished, plainly and simply.  Who the hell knew where he was?

      Yoji glanced at Omi.  He was tired from staying up late, juggling research and school and the shop.  Yoji knew Omi was killing himself each night, looking for clues as to where Ken was.  Typical.  As for the other man there… He considered Ran worriedly.  The redhead was breaking.  There was… something there, in those purple eyes.  Something he had never expected, and doubted that the redhead expected it himself.

      Chimes on the door.  It clang everytime someone entered or exited, but for some reason, he could always tell if it was going to be Manx.

      Kitada Hanae--Manx, the daunting woman with the red hair and the vibrant eyes, stood against the door expectantly.

      Obligated, each of Weiß made their respected exits, well-oiled lines that the women minded, but didn't dare contradict.  

      Yoji wondered what the hell this was going to be about now.

      Ran didn't know much about Kritiker.

      He knew about Manx and Birman.  He knew about a few bases, which their group went to only because of extreme cases of injury.  He knew about concluded missions of White Cross.  He knew that the organization had several branches.  That was all.

      It had been serendipitous, really.  He made the bargain with Schuldich for the sole reason of wanting to get Ken back.  That was all.  Then he realized, he was lucky that he wouldn't be giving his enemy too much anyway, because he didn't have anything important.  Schuldich already knew about Manx and Birman, as well as the branches of Kritiker, as they probably knew of the bases, which were well-fortified anyway.  Concluded missions were just that: finished, useless.  His betrayal wouldn't be too bad after all.

      And yet here Manx was…

      It's funny how fate plays with you.  Funny, funny.

      She gave them a new mission: Three of Kritiker's heads were to meet for a council on the organization.  Weiß, being one of the best, was assigned to be bodyguards.  Of course, there would be back-up.  But the fewer the better, so as not to be conspicuous.  And if there had to be few, they might as well be the best in the field.

      "Do you accept?" she asked them, knowing they would.

      But she didn't know anything about what was going on in Ran's panicked mind.  

      "No," he said tightly, "We are in the middle of an investigation of our own.  Apart from the reason that we would be ill-equipped for a mission this important with one of our members missing"  
      Manx frowned.  Then nodded.  It made sense.  Of course it did.  Ran Fujimiya made everything seem so sensible.

      There.  He has said it.  Schwarz would know about the mission.  Ran knew he had jeopardized the lives of other Kritiker agents.  But as long as it wasn't anyone from Weiß…

      God, what have I done? I'm entrenching myself, deeper and deeper into this mess…

      He hadn't realized that they meant so much to him.

      Manx left, disappointed but understanding.

      Ran closed his eyes.

      I couldn't ask for forgiveness.  It wouldn't be given.  And he certainly found it preposterous to think he would ever deserve it. 

      He had sealed their fate as much as he had his own.

_______

      Desert.

      Schuldich stood in front of Ran Fujimiya, looking at the Japanese man thoughtfully.

      The desert in his mind was reasonably calm, but Schuldich noted the slight wind that formed ripples in the sand, and made little tornadoes on the ground, shifting, shifting.  Was it just him or was the sun hotter, the water from the lonely oasis lower, dirtier?

      "We will destroy Kritiker," Schuldich said.

      "I know," Ran said.

      "You have helped us greatly," Schuldich said, testing the redhead who just glared at him in defiance.

      "You have what you want," grated Ran, "Just leave"

      "I'll leave you to think about your sins," Schuldich sneered, walking away.

      Ran stood there, not wanting to give the German the satisfaction, but wasn't able to help it.

      Sins…

      Would there ever come a time when the sins would be too much, that he has committed each one and wouldn't have to feel the guilt about it anymore?

      He hoped not, and hoped so all at once.

      But that didn't matter now.

      Nothing else mattered until you are safe, he decided.

      Six days.

      Six more days of betrayal, until you come back to me.  
      But he doubted he could ever leave behind being a traitor, even after that time.  There were things that always stayed.  

      There were things that even being with you again couldn't right.

      Ran thought that he was already resigned.

      He thought he already knew the consequences and was willing to risk them, in favor of Ken.

      But he never imagined anything like this.

      The three heads of Kritiker were dead, as well as thirty Kritiker agents who had died trying to protect them.

      All those who survived assured them that it was none other than Schwarz.

      His betrayal is now complete.

      Ran's vision swam, and bile rose in his throat as he made his ragged way back up to his apartment from the basement, where a hard-eyed Manx told them they had a new mission on top of anything else: the elimination of Schwarz.

      The idea of a traitor hadn't even crossed Kritiker's minds, blinded by their anger as well as daunted by Schwarz's power; having a mind-reader on-hand, it couldn't have been that hard to find out.

      Of course, especially in light of the situation, Weiß said yes.  But Ran Fujimiya thought they were going after the wrong people.

      There's a traitor in your midst, you idiots!

      He locked his door behind him, before falling to his knees on the floor, shaking.

      You're going after the wrong guy!

      I just got assigned to go after me!

      It was almost funny.

      So funny he started to chuckle with it.

      The idea just tickled him.

      "Maybe I'd die laughing," he giggled to himself, then suddenly broke with a sob, taking in heaving breaths that were all too inadequate.

      "God…" he moaned, then stopped in mid-prayer.  No, he didn't deserve mercy, even from that high up.

      He ran his hands through his hair, nails curling into his flesh, leaving his pale skin with red marks.

      I've just sold my soul for you, Ken…

      And I don't even know you're alive.

      Ran glanced at his katana, leaning majestically against the wall of his room.  It was in its sheath, but seemed to glow, calling him.

      I'm going to hell for you, Ken.  And I don't even know if you're still alive.

      Maybe you're dead already.  

      Maybe I'll follow you soon--

      Desert.

      The next thing Ran knew, he was kneeling in the middle of his mind, in front of Schuldich.  The oasis was all-dried-up now, and the trees were dying out slowly before his very eyes.

      "Damn you," Ran seethed.

      "I think," Schuldich said in a triumph that sat and hesitated in his eyes, "Damn us both"  
      The sands started to stir in a sudden storm.  Restless, angry, unyielding, indiscriminate.  They whipped against each other, as they tossed against the two humans.

      "You killed them!" Ran raged.

      "So did you!" snapped Schuldich.

      Ran screamed in undiluted anger, as the sandstorm reached its climax in a sudden rush, then lowered gradually as its master placed his hands over his face in anguish.  In defeat.

      "I hate you," Ran said tightly, "Ken's dead.  I'll confess now.  I'll get punished but that's okay.  Because you can't do anything to me anymore.  Ken's dead.

      "I'm leaving now," Ran declared, getting slowly to his feet.

      "You don't sound as if you've actually convinced yourself," pointed out Schuldich.  

      "Ken's dead," Ran repeated shakily, "You can't do anything to me anymore--"  
      "I said he was alive," interrupted Schuldich, "I meant what I said"

      I might regret this…

      "Show me," Ran whispered.

      All too ironically, it reminded Schuldich of a thirsty man in the middle of a desert.

      You fall asleep and it's dark.

      When you wake up it's dark too.

      Ken had thought he was blind.  It was his initial fear, his most basic, most absolute fear when he woke up thinking he had lost his vision…

      It took him awhile to realize his eyes were bound, just as his wrists were, and his feet.  He squirmed impatiently and in an effort to test his bonds.

      These were Great bonds, if anything ever was.  Downright… boy-scout-ish, except he was pretty sure he wasn't being kept captive by anyone remotely close to a boy scout.

      He was stiff and sore from being tied up and from lying on nothing but the hard floor, probably for hours now.  He could hear no sound from his surroundings--then again, he couldn't really hear anything apart from the frantic sound of his own heart, recovering from its initial shock.

      What had happened?

      He ran afoul of several of the guards in the mission, an encounter which had injured him.  He had blacked out, but not completely before he realized that someone was taking him away.  The grip had been sure and unobtrusive; there'd been a shock of red hair, and he remembered thinking it might have been Ran except… Ran's wasn't carrot-colored.  The last man who owned a head of red hair that shade was… a past he had much rather forget about.

      He was tied.  Therefore, he was undoubtedly in enemy territory (how embarrassing).  But how long has he been here? And why didn't he ache from anything else but the initial injury that had him blacking out in the first place?

      He was being kept alive, surely.  But for what?

      Ransom? Kritiker wouldn't condone it.  Torture him for information? The idea made him shudder.  They'd end up killing him in the most brutal way, because he wouldn't tell them shit, nor ever could because he didn't really know anything important.  It was surely the greatest possibility, a none too comforting fact.

      He didn't want to think about it anymore.

      He grunted and shifted his weight impatiently.  This is boring.

      He'll have to wait for his captors to make the first move.

      As if he could do anything else anyway.

      Ran stood in the makeshift prison, an unfurnished room the size of a cabinet.  It was reasonably well-lit in a flat white, and was without windows.

      He stood beside Schuldich.  The two of them looked like ghosts, translucent men who loomed over Ken Hidaka, lying on his side on the floor.

      He looked pale and shocky, but was otherwise doing well.  He still wore his mission clothes sans the bugnuks and most likely, whatever weapons he might have had concealed in his person.  His wrists were tied together, as well as his forearms, on his back.  So were his knees and ankles.  There was a tie over his eyes as well, though thankfully none on his mouth.  It looked like a goddamn position to Ran, but mostly, he noted that Ken seemed more annoyed than in pain.

      It angered him anyway, and turned to Schuldich accusingly.  

      "Hey, don't blame us for being cautious," said the German, "you boys have always been a handful.  And yes, you can talk, if you're wondering.  He can't hear you"  
      "This isn't the way to keep him," pointed out Ran, "he's injured, in case you've missed it"

      "Wouldn't it be a little suspicious if we kept him in a five-star hotel?" snapped Schuldich, "He's fine.  Not in any danger of dying, or anything"  
      "You feed him?" asked Ran.

      "Intravenously," said Schuldich, "He is not going anywhere near forks and knives.  And incidentally," he added wryly, "we make him drink too.  Once in awhile, whenever we feel like it.  He will also get to go to the bathroom when he asks for it.  We know how to keep our prisoners, Fujimiya.  Don't get all uptight here"

      "I'm concerned of the injuries," said Ran, "No infection?"  
      "None," guaranteed Schuldich, "he'll be your problem at the end of the week"  
      "Good," Ran said, wondering after he said it if it had been the correct remark.  "He… won't know any of this"  
      "He'll never know," promised Schuldich, looking at the redhead with interest.  He had been near-mad, just a few minutes ago.  And here he was, all composed again.  Funny how quickly people change.

      For Ran, it was infinitely simpler.

      Ran lowered himself to his knees in front of his fallen comrade.  If he touched him, would Ken feel it?

      Ran hesitated, then lowered his hand to his side and made a fist of it.  Later.  When I take you back.  When you're safe.  When this is over.  You'll hear what I have to say.

      Ken's alive.  

      The motive is clear now.

      He'll do what he has to in order to keep him that way.

_______

      Another day another murder.

      When would that ever sound normal? What kind of a man would he be by that time? 

      Subhuman.

      He longed for the numbness it would bring almost as much as he detested it.

      Day six of his treason.  Murder number thirty-seven has been committed.  By now, thirty-seven Kritiker agents already died by the hands of Schwarz, aided by their invisible inside man.

      Ran clung to the reunion a day from now.  It had become an obsession he couldn't shake.  Understandably.  It had been the justification for his betrayal.  Ken's safe.  The light at the end of this long, goddamn endless tunnel.

      After so many killings, Kritiker piped down in the missions for awhile and focused their eyes on the situation.  It was going crazy up and down, trying to reorganize the organization and recruit new agents and hunt down whoever is responsible.

      Murder no. 37 would be the last of its nature, Ran decided.  Manx wouldn't be coming in for awhile, unknowingly leaking information, because they were too busy with everything else.

      Ran's concern, for the moment, was to plan how to get Ken back, discreetly and with all bases covered.  He needed to come up with a situation that had no holes in it, no questions, no suspicions.

      He hoped the German would come visit him soon, so they can end this shit of a Deal.

      "Koneko," Omi said quickly, answering the phone in the flower shop, tucking in the receiver against his neck as he used both hands to prop up an arrangement of daisies.

     It was Manx.  "Within the next few minutes someone is going to come in there and ask you to deliver me something.  Ride along and watch him closely.  Tell him not to go to work tonight"

      Click.

      Omi put down the phone and sighed.  He hoped this had something to do with Ken.  It just wasn't the same around here without him.  Each time he thinks he's succeeded in distracting himself from his worries, a troop of kids comes along, bullies their way through the shop and asks for their missing coach.

      He wondered what this was about, when a collective murmur erupted in the shop from their patrons.  It was a sound of detecting new fish in the sea…

      The comparison made Omi wince in embarrassment.  Truth hurt.

      In came a man about their age.  He had a compact built, lean and balanced.  A pale, chiseled face with an easy smile, though his glassy silver eyes seemed a little hesitant, classy features set of by short, shagging hair of the darkest black, in what could either be described as disarray, or artless style.

      He headed straight for Omi behind the counter; the women parted like the Red Sea for Moses.  Amazing what good looks could do for you.

      "Hi," he greeted, biting his lip in anxiety, "Um.  I want you to fix me up a bunch of hyacinths, and have it delivered to this lady"

      "All right," Omi said with a guarded smile, trying to ease the man into some semblance of relaxation, "A dozen all right?"  
      "You know your job, I guess," the man shrugged, looking Omi straight in the eye.  Double entendre there.

      "We're the best at what we do," Omi said cheerfully, feeling relieved that the man was discreet.  It was obvious that he wasn't one of Kritiker's tired and tried agents; this was a newbie, hesitant but perceptive.  

      "Good," the man breathed.  "All right.  That looks nice"

      Omi did his magic, fixing the bouquet.  Then handed it to the man for inspection.  The man was a natural at palming, Omi noted.  The man just went and slipped a microfilm in there, all in the guise of inspecting the flowers.  No one less than a professional could have noticed it.

      "I'm sure she'll like these," Omi said.

      "I think so too," said the man, "Um… Make out the card to Kitada Hanae, will you? Um… Love always, Ian"  
      "Ahh," Omi said, "Okay.  We'll deliver it immediately.  You don't have to bother with the address.  We get ordered to bring this lady flowers all the time"  
      "I see," the man--Ian said, smiling, reassured, and totally unlike the smitten, jealous loverboy he should have been.  But Omi thought, with a little work, they could be colleagues one day.

      "But I'm sure she will treat these as extra special," said Omi, "you might even want to go out with her tonight"  
      "I have work," Ian said with a slight frown.

      "Then skip it," suggested Omi in a deceptively light tone, "This kind of thing…it's once in a lifetime"  
      Yup.  It just takes one mistake and you're dead, do you'd better do as I tell you…

      "That sounds like a neat idea," Ian said, paying for the bouquet.  "Thanks," he said before leaving the shop.  Female chatter dominated the room, with him as the undoubted topic.

      "Who was that, Omi?" one of the girls asked him.

      Chimes.  Manx stepped into the shop, making the pretty girls seem overly immature and overly frivolous.  One or two of them might have started to notice that the boys always have to leave each time she arrives.  But annoyance at her is so much more potent than suspicion.

      "That," said Omi, "is Her boyfriend.  So hands off"

      They went down to the basement, Manx quite fascinated by the hyacinths almost as much as she was fascinated by the microfilm.

      "What did you think of my prospect?" she asked Omi.

      "As a lover or as an agent?"  
      "Funny," she said flatly, "You'll forgive me if I don't laugh"

      "He has potential," Omi said.  "What's up with him?"

      "That's Ian," Manx said, "a half-breed orphan.  Certified genius, used to do second-story work"

      "Like what?" asked Yoji, just getting the swing of the conversation.

      "Stealing," said Manx, "Palming, pick-pocketing.  Before we instilled his loyalty, we did a background check.  Used his… earnings to pay his way through school.  After that, he went legit and did menial work for Delta Pharmaceuticals, which pays for college"

      "What would Kritiker want with him?" asked Omi.

      "Delta Pharmaceuticals is suspected of an intricate bioterrorism plot," said Manx, "Poisons, viruses, epidemics.  You get the picture.  Kritiker wants him first as a spy.  Then, maybe, as an agent.  We've surely been lacking, don't you think?"  
      "Anyway," she quickly changed the painful subject, "this is urgent, so we pooled what's left of our resources and concentrated on this before anything else, to work on as we get back on our feet.  I'm sure… that even without Siberian, you can handle this.  Your next mission is to kill the heads of Delta, on a raid tonight"  
      "I could have guessed," sighed Omi, complaining without much heart.  They've been denying missions in order to concentrate on Ken, but it all seemed fruitless.  Besides, not only did he need a real distraction from their missing member, also, maybe Ken wouldn't want an epidemic out in Tokyo.

      Yoji might have been thinking the same thing.  Ran… Ran saw an opportunity.

      "We accept," he said.

      Desert.

      For the first time, Schuldich saw it during the night.  A lot of stars, not really so dark.  Calm, but cold.  

      Fujimiya was where he always was, in his now-dried-up oasis.  He stood at a ready stance, with determination in his eyes.

      "After this," said Ran, "we'll never have to hear from each other again outside of the field of battle"  
      "Yeah," said Schuldich wryly, "don't make me cry or anything"  
      "I have a plan on how you can bring him back to m-us" said Ran, temporarily shaken from his control.

      "Yeah?"  
      "We have a mission tonight," said Ran, "sell him to our targets"

      "I get the idea," said Schuldich, "make Hidaka think he's been sold to the highest bidder, which also justifies why we kept him alive.  We get the money and leave him to your target, who will do one or both of two things: torture him for information, or ransom him out, trade him.  And you're sure you can handle these small-scale-hirelings-type, right?"

      Ran nodded.  "Do you accept the terms?"  
      "I said I stick by my word," Schuldich said blandly.

      "After this," said Ran, "If we should see each other gain it will be as if none of this ever took place"  
      "Your betrayal will be kept from Siberian," Schuldich guaranteed.  

      "Good," Ran breathed.  "Why is this so easy?"  
      "Cos I know we can get you again, if we wanted," said Schuldich.  "Well, it's been fun," he sneered as he vanished.

      Ran was alone.

      The desert was again, what he had always wanted.

      Calm and empty.

      Careless hands tore the bonds from his eyes.

      He squinted in the assault of the sudden light, light that his eyes had not seen for days.  Unused muscles twitched involuntarily as he tried to stare into the face of his captor.

      The Irishman.  Farfello, was leering at him.

      "Time to go," he said jovially.

      "About time," Ken croaked, grateful for the change in his darkness, even if the change was Schwarz.  Now he knew he was doomed.  But it would be so much better than the anguish of the days he had spent unable to see, unable to move, not knowing anything.

      He was hustled around.  He wanted to keep his eyes open so he could see where he was, have some useful information for Weiß on Schwarz's hideout if he should survive.  But his eyes closed involuntarily from the light.

      He muttered curses, and was shoved into a car, which moved for how long, he couldn't guess.  He has long since lost his sense of time.

      Eventually they did stop.  Impatuently, he forced his eyes open to look into the face of Crawford, the American pre-cog.

      "Congratulations," he said, "You go to the highest bidder for Kritiker goods"

      "Thanks," said Ken sarcastically, wondering what the catch was.

      "We'll see each other again," said Crawford thoughtfully, in such a pensive manner that made Ken shudder in wonder, "and not in the way you would think"  
      A hand lashed out.  

      He lost consciousness again.

      They hadn't counted on finding…him.

      It might have been an understatement to say Yoji and Omi were surprised to find Siberian in the hands of their Delta Pharmaceuticals targets.

      Unconscious but alive.

      It stopped them short for a moment, but only succeeded in making them so much more angry, so much more determined.

      "When our information was stolen," one of the targets said, misled triumph in his eyes, "We knew our number was up.  We're not stupid.  We know of the organization that takes people like us down.  So we went shopping for a little wild card"  
      Were his eyes just a little bit vacant? Ran figured these thoughts had been courtesy of Schuldich, maybe.  Maybe.

      "Schwarz…" Yoji growled, anger taking over, hindering him from seeing what Ran clearly saw.

      "Surrender and the four of you can die together," said the man.

      It took him two blinks before he died.  Three times over, dart, wire and blade.  His friends too.

      Ran looked down at Ken's unconscious form, which Omi and Yoji anxiously hovered over.

      The loose ends had been tied.

      "Is he all right?" Ran asked tightly, trying to keep his face straight, his voice stern and yet… as Yoji's eyes peered into his own, there had been a secret there.  Loud and unyielding.

      "Yes," the blonde said at last, "He's all right"

      Ran wondered if Ken would ever know how much his life and freedom had cost.  The price of the soul is indeterminable…

      If Siberian would ever know how deep the love for him had been.

      It had been a week since his return.

      Kritiker, just like a cat falling from a high place, landed on their feet and simply licked their wounds and went on as they were.

      Ian had been hired to an Intelligence post.

      Weiß had mission after mission, as they always did.

      Ran, no matter what kind of encouragement he gave himself, still kept the secret of his love hidden from painfully oblivious eyes.

      There would be a mission tonight, to steal information.

      Ran told himself what he has been telling himself since Ken returned.

      Tonight he would know I care.

THE END

February 28, 2001

"Mane Thecel Phares" means one has been weighed, measured and found wanting in Latin.  It is the prequel to "Via Crucis," which had been one of my most popular fics.   

        
      

        
      

        
      

          
  



	2. Via Crucis

Author: Mirrordance

E-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com

Title: Via Crucis 

Type: series

Warnings: angst, language, yaoi, violence

Spoilers: with references to the entire series

Teaser: Ken is kicked out of White Cross because of Ran…

Keywords: Ran, Ken, Weiß, Schwarz

"Via Crucis"

a WKff by Mirrordance

don't own anybody…

      He came into the room wanting to sit by his bed and watch him breathe.

      Is there any joy in the world simpler than that? Is there any joy in THEIR world that is any harder to keep, being who they were and doing what they did?

      I never counted on this, thought Ran.  Never.

      Ken's chest rose and fell in deep, even breathing.  His lively face was closed and expressionless now, but still lovely and childlike…

      The idea made Ran decide that the thoughts that swirled on his head, about running one finger along that chiseled face, lingering on the laugh-limes on the corners of his eyes, was some perverted fantasy.

      He's a child…

      Maybe, not in age.  But in everything else.  Painfully naïve, hot-headed, impulsive, idealistic Ken.  Omi knows more about the world than you do.

      Ran looked up from his contemplation of Ken, to where Yoji was standing, leaning against the doorframe.  Only a fellow-assassin could have detected that unobtrusive presence.

      "He's… much better," Ran said in a strained voice, looking disoriented, for once in his life as part of Weiß.  The chain of events that had led him here was a goddamn roller coaster.

      If Yoji noticed, and Ran would have bet his hands that the blonde did, he gave no indication of the redhead's present state of confusion.

      "That's good," he said, "Omi's left for school now.  I convinced him Ken was all right.  I thought I lied, but I guess I hadn't"

      Unguarded, Ran grinned slightly at the idea, then smothered it again.  You have a distorted sense of morality, Kudo.  It had been a lie when you said it.  Its truth was only incidental.

      "Go get your rest," said Yoji, "I'll take over"

      "No," said Ran, "I'll stay until…"

      He opens his eyes.  I'll stay until Ken's eyes open and look at me.  And hear what I have to say.  Now get the hell out.

      "I'll stay until I'm satisfied," he amended curtly, turning his back on Yoji.  Yes, that would be what was usually expected of him.

      "Then so will I," Yoji decided, walking over to the window of Ken's messy room, sitting on the ledge and looking out at the morning in the city.

      Ran glared at him, though the blond was oblivious.  It looks like Ken won't hear what he has to say just yet, because of the obtuse audience.

      At last, the eyes opened, a little cloudy but aware, after days of listlessness.  

      "You're still wearing that?" Ken asked, wrinkling his nose.  Ran found it irritating and endearing that the first thing he would notice after all this time, was Ran's mission clothes.

      "Oh, no, wait!" Ken suddenly exclaimed, sitting up straight, "You can't be real!"

      "But we are," teased Yoji, "Ken, you just had your first experience of being pathetically high"  
      "Drugs?" Ken asked hoarsely, wondering what the heck he did.  The last thing he remembers was getting caught by the enemy, trying to beat the crap out of them and getting something injected into his arm…

      "Yes," Ran said through gritted teeth, "their idea of sedatives was a goddamn overdose"  
      And it very nearly had been a fatal one.  Ran could recall those listless eyes, staring ahead at nothing for hours and hours.  It was followed by a delirium-ridden crash, and Ran didn't know what he preferred between the two.  It was a relief when his eyes had closed at last, as he fell into a deep sleep.

      "They kept you alive," said Yoji, "and demanded to exchange you for the information we stole from them.  Ran and I stalled, kept them distracted as Omi worked on recopying the disk.  We gave them the original and got you back"

      Ken sighed in relief, leaning back against his pillow.  "Good.  I thought the mission failed because of me"  
      "Be more fucking careful next time!" seethed Ran, suddenly inexplicably angry.  It was always that way: first, relief, over a fellow's safety, then rage over their carelessness.  He shot to his feet and walked out.

      He came into the room wanting to sit by his bed and watch him breathe… What the hell happened?

      Ken's cheeks were flushed with frustration and embarrassment.  "Yoj, isn't he even SLIGHTLY happy that I'm alive?"  
      "You're so self-absorbed," Yoji said with a light laugh, feeling like a hypocrite.  "Think a little, Ken"  
      "What do you mean?"

      "Where do you think Omi is?" asked Yoji, putting his hands inside his pockets.

      "School," Ken said at once, "else he'd be in here too, because he always is around, whenever one of us is hurt.  At least ONE OF YOU care, not like some guy we know…"  
      "Which means it's gotta be at least Monday, right?" said Yoji, ignoring the side comment, "but the catch is, we did the mission Saturday night.  Two days ago.  And look who's still in his mission clothes?"

      "If he's so happy," Ken said, unwilling to conceded, "then why is he so mad at me? I don't know why he didn't change his clothes, Yoj.  I just know that I woke up and he hated me"

      "He doesn't hate you," Yoji said gently, "He just… never mind"

      It wasn't his to tell…

      "Just what?" Ken persisted.

      "He hates what he would do to keep you safe," said Yoji, heading towards the door, "Take care, Kenken"  
      'Kenken' wondered what the hell that had meant.

      Yoji watched Ran work, that morning in the shop.

      He was starting to realize that their lack of communication wasn't completely because the redhead was closed and an introverted son-of-a-bitch.  It's also because the rest of them were dense too, and not particularly used to the man's different reactions.

      Take for example, the Ken-thing.

      Yoji never expected it at all.  And from how the redhead has been acting lately, neither did he.  Omi might have known by now-- the kid was damn perceptive, if anyone within their group was.  As for the object of Ran's affection… well, it might be proper to say Ken was standing in the eye of a storm.

      Calm, unknowing.  

      The eye of the storm, ironically blind…

      Some cheerful whistling announced the arrival of Ken into the shop, and giving some girls he recognized a careless wave, he slipped on his apron and grabbed a sack of fertilizer from the back room.

      "Take it easy," Yoji heard Ran say to him in that flat tone, "you're still recuperating"

      "Well I want to be useful," the stubborn brunette retorted, grunting with the effort of organizing the sacks.  Ran watched with slit eyes.

      "If you want to be useful," the redhead said in a gruff voice, "you can do something else"

      "This is fine," Ken argued, "I'm fine"

      "You hadn't been fine an hour ago!" snapped Ran.

      "That was then, this is now"

      "Don't be so goddamn stubborn," scolded Ran, "you get into so much trouble all the time--"  
      "You're one hell of a nagger, Ran--"

      Yoji's eyebrows raised as the argument went louder.  Even the customers were lowering their voices and tuning in.

      I'll let Gracious Leader handle this on his own, Yoji decided as he tactfully closed the door, meeting the ladies' disapproving expressions with a grin.

      "Show's over, kids"

      The door Yoji had closed to protect their privacy hadn't even been noticed.  The very air in the small storage room was cackling with nervous energy for something that shouldn't have been that big a deal, but simply blown out of proportion by issues that piled and piled and eventually spilled over disastrously.

      "I said I'm fine," said Ken impatiently, "it's my decision, it's my body, it's my life"

      "It's MY problem when you get your ass in a fix," snapped Ran, "which you ALWAYS do"

      Ken shoved the sacks down onto the floor.  "You know what? This is getting irritating, Ran.  I happen to be good at what I do"

      Which was, admitted Ran grudgingly, true enough.  It was just that the incidents that imprinted themselves into Ran's tortured memory were the ones when Ken got hurt.  Ran hated how he felt when Ken gets hurt, right from the slightest injury to more serious ones like the one from the last mission.

      Ran closed his eyes in concentration, reined in his temper.  He hates apologizing, so he never does.

      "I hadn't meant it," he amended, "I just want you to be more careful, that's all"

      "Oh, sure," Ken rolled back his eyes, "Of course you didn't meant it.  It's only what I've been hearing from you ever since I woke up!"  
      Ran was finding the conversation more than a little bit frustrating.  Ken was so dense.  And he… he was too fearful to let him know.  The two of them were never going to get anywhere.

      How do I tell you I hate it when you get hurt, and that I hate it when I can't protect you, and I hate it when I survive unscathed and you don't, and I hate it when I wait and see if you'll come out of some new injury alive, and I hate it when we split up during missions and I hate it when I have to think about you every time we get out there…

      But all the hatred fell away, unspoken on his thin lips.  The words that came out instead was tinged with regret and accusation.

      "I love you," Ran said.

      Ken's jaw dropped.  It sounded not as a profession, not as an apology, not even as an explanation.  But a complaint.  "I love you" from Ran sounded like a complaint.

      I love you and it's screwing up my life.  I love you and it's all your fault, bastard.

      What was he to say to that?

      "Thank you," Ken said uncertainly, backing towards the door.

      "Wait, don't--" Ran said, raising up a hand to stop him, "Please.  Don't leave.  I've been wanting to say.  I… I don't expect anything of you, in return.  I just… wanted to say"

      "I never thought--"

      "Neither did I," said Ran, sounding resigned and defeated and confused for the first time Ken had ever seen.  Ah, well.  It had to happen some time.

      NOT that he was happy it was THIS time, and that it had been because of HIM.

      "I have to go," Ken said quickly, ducking out of the room and its stifling air, the stifling words hanging in the narrow space.

      The confession hadn't been good for the group at all.

      Ken was continuously uneasy, and this made Ran very edgy.  Meals had been spectacularly quiet, and shifts in the shop were rearranged so Ran and Ken wouldn't have a chance to get in each other's way.  Missions were a pain in the ass, because Ken would not, under any circumstances (even practical ones), be partnered with Ran, who wanted him by his side to make sure he was safe.

      The working atmosphere had been as destructive as the personal one, unavoidably affected.

      It was what Ran had been thinking about, the day after a failed mission, and he had asked Manx to meet him in the park, in private.

      "Fujimiya," she murmured, coming up behind him that cool evening.  Her heels clicked smartly against the pavement.

      "Manx," he said, "I'll get straight to the point"

      She smirked, her eyes telling him that this was no surprise to her; when it came to the impervious redhead, everything that came out of his mouth had been nothing but the point anyway.

      "I want a reassignment," said Ran flatly, "I want out of Weiß"

      Manx, for all of her poker-face training, could not hold back her surprise.  "What? But you've been doing so well, as a group"

      "We've been failing missions--" retorted Ran.

      "Everyone fails once in awhile!" she argued, "It's a totally moot point.  Your groups ratio of loses to wins is impossibly good!"  
      "I don't care," said Ran, "I want out.  Make it happen"

      "What's wrong?" she asked, "I can't do anything without a reason, Fujimiya.  You have to tell me something I could take higher-up"

      Ran looked at her coldly.  "I can't work with them anymore.  Things got complicated.  I want out, Manx.  Make it happen"

      It had sounded like half a command, the other half a plea.  She marveled over him.

      "I'll look into it," she said, not promising anything.  She walked away, feeling troubled, and took one last glance at the solitary figure, standing unaffected by the wind, as if he were part of the night.

      The formula of the formation of White Cross had been so perfect.  Each of its men complimented the other, filled in each other's gaps.  It had been a great team, a great formula.  Everyone thought so, and the results they came up with were further proof.

      What had happened?

      Yes, she decided, she will have to look into it.

      The next time Ran heard anything from Manx, it had been when she came into the shop, with an announcement to make.

      She looked grave, and this is said even with the thought of her coming in to relay a particularly difficult mission.  She looked like the definite bearer of bad news.

      "I'll get straight to the point," she said, and in her eyes there had been a dry joke there.  It brought Ran back to that cool evening just a few days ago.  Things hadn't changed in the shop since, and Ran thought it was about time he got results.

      "Ken is getting reassigned," she said.

      Ran's eyes nearly popped out of his head.  "What?!"

      "I don't understand," Ken said plainly, the fire draining from his eyes, from his body.  "What… did I do?"  
      "It's not anything you did," said Manx, "it's just the way things work.  You can either go with it, or face the consequences"

      "Some choice," said Ken bitterly, "we know what the consequences are.  The only way I can get myself out of Kritiker is by death.  This had to have been the worst decision I've ever made in my life.  Like, like making a deal with the devil"

      "It pains me to hear you say that," Manx said truthfully.  She hadn't thought to be referred to as the devil.

      Ken set his jaw, looked away, counted to ten in his mind before speaking, calming himself before he explodes.

      "When should I move out?"

      "Ken!" protested Omi, unwilling to give up, "Is this final, Manx?"  
      "We don't do anything halfway, Bombay," said Manx, "you should be out of here by the day after tomorrow"

      "What are you going to do if I refuse?" asked Ken, the fire returning in his body, poised as if ready to spring.

      "I'll have to kill you, won't I?"

      Manx left the basement, feeling like a villain.  But it had to have been done.  This is how it works.  You fix a problem before it gets worse.  And Hidaka had been the problem.

      Ran caught up to her, grabbing her elbow and pulling her to a corner of the emptied, ground-level shop.  

      "What the hell have you done?" he growled.

      "It hadn't been up to me," she said, "you asked for a reassignment, I brought it to a committee.  The committee decided we needed more reason, then, say, a redheaded mood.  So, we had people go into the shop, discreetly looking into you…"

      Ran wasn't surprised that Weiß, for all their training, hadn't noticed spies.  Kritiker had to have used the best, and they couldn't have been assigned to that if they were obvious or sloppy.

      "We found," she continued, "that you and Ken not only had a telling argument the days before, but that you were not able to put things behind you.  The shifts were rearranged, and undoubtedly, the breakdown during missions"

      "Why him?" spat Ran, "I asked for the reassignment.  He doesn't want this.  Did you see his face, Manx? You just killed him anyway"

      "It's not up to me," Manx reiterated, "They like how you work.  They didn't want to pull you out of Weiß, especially as a leader.  It isn't done.  So we got rid of your problem"

      "He is not my problem!" seethed Ran, I'm his.

      "Well, it's done, either way," she said with finality, heading towards the door.

      "Manx, please," Ran said, the desperation alien to him.  "Please.  Don't do this to him.  If he is the one who has to go, then never mind.  I'll just stay.  Everyone will just stay--"

      "Kritiker does not waste its valuable time in investigating this only to be back in square one," she said, eyes shifting from side to side as if she herself was starting to believe, and wanted to get out of there before she got convinced.

      "Manx…"

      "I'll see you soon, Abyssinian"

      It was later that night, that Ran decided to face up to the situation that he, unintentionally, had become the cause of.

      He had stood alone in the dark, empty shop for a time that he couldn't count, didn't care to.  Finally, making some weird decision on his mind, he strolled down to the basement to find it empty as well.  Seeking Ken out, he headed to the apartments, and stopped by the soccer player's door, thinking.

      He felt ashamed.  It couldn't have been completely his fault and yet… it had happened because of him.

      He raised his fist and knocked.  "I know you're awake"

      Pause.

      "Then you also probably know I want to be alone!" came the retort from inside the room.

      "Let me in"

      --

      "I'll break the door down"

      --

      "I mean it"

      --

      But he didn't, not really.  What he did instead was to pick it open.  He turned the knob and pushed the door open.  He found Ken in the middle of his sleeping area, arms crossed over his chest and looking at him in absolute dismay.

      "Anyone ever told you you're an asshole?"  
      You don't know the half of it, Ran thought miserably.

      "What do you want?" Ken asked in resignation, sitting on his bed and looking at Ran defeated, "I don't need anything from you right now"

      "I wanted to say…" Ran hated this word, he really, really did, "I wanted to say I'm sorry"  
      "Yeah, well," Ken said, closing his eyes and breathing, "shit happens, right? Isn't that what they always say?"

      "No," Ran amended, "I mean I'm sorry, because this is all my fault"

      Ken's eyes snapped open.  "What do you mean?"

      Ran started to pace, rubbing his eyes tiredly over his face.  "It had been me.  I asked for a reassignment.  I wanted to get out of here.  Nothing had been the same after… after… Nothing had been the same.  I had to leave.  Things would have been better if we were away from each other.  It was all I could do to right it.  I told them to take ME out, not you.  Never you"  
      Ran could see the words rising within Ken, from the way his chest expanded, from the rage, the HATE in his eyes.

      "Never me? NEVER ME?" he demanded, "You don't think, Ran! Or maybe you DO think and you did all of this on purpose.  And for what? Because I couldn't… couldn't… love you back? You fucking bastard, why would they remove YOU, the great leader? Why would they remove you, where would they find another cold, perfect killer? Of course, between us they'd get rid of me.  The clumsy one, the scatter-brained one.  They'd never get rid of you!"  
      The words were fast, bitter.  The tears had been angry and almost completely without grief.

      "But it's done," Ken said, trying to catch his breath, "You're a fucking bastard, but its been done.  I'll leave, Ran.  I'll leave peacefully.  Because if I didn't, you'll fight them back.  Or wait.  I don't know about you but I'm sure Yoji and Omi will.  And if you fight Kritiker, you'll only lose.  And get hurt.  I don't want to see people I care about get hurt, Ran, unlike some people…"

      You're better at it than you think you are…

      "But you…" said Ken with finality, "you've taken away everything that I had left.  You… you I'll always hate.  Always, and completely."

_______

      It had been a week since Ken left, not saying where he had gone and not bothering to visit, which as Manx said, he was allowed to do.  It was apparent that he didn't want to be found just yet.  Manx confirmed this when Omi had asked if she could tell them where Ken was.  She said that he would contact them if he wanted, wouldn't he?

      That was the day they've been given a new mission.

      Their first mission without Siberian.

      They went through the usual procedures, not really as physically handicapped by the loss of one of their own as they were spiritually.

      Nevertheless, late one night they headed out of their prey… only to find his building viciously torn apart, with bodies of bodyguards in every corner, and the target himself practically in pieces in his office.

      Standing amidst the carnage there, was Siberian.

      His eyes glowed in the darkness.  He looked like a demon in the night.  Not merely part of it, as all of Weiß had learned to be, but… its master.

      "Ken!" Omi whispered, but stopped short of running towards him when he saw that Ken made no move, but just stared at them.

      "What are you doing here?" asked Yoji, awed.

      Ken answered in a low voice, "I'm good at what I do.  As a matter of fact, I'm downright perfect.  They had no right to move me.  YOU had no right.  But I let them, and I let you.  But just so you know, I'm good at what I do"  
      "We've always known--" Omi said, but cut himself off, seeing that Ken's attention had been focused on Ran's unflinching gaze.

      "Just so you know," Ken said, moving past them and vanishing into the night.  

      None dared follow.

      "What's going on?" Omi asked Ran.  He had been dying to ask this past few days, but bided his time.  He could resist no longer.

      But Ran dared not answer.

-One year later-

      His name was Ian.  He had the blackest hair anyone could ever see on any head, sleek and shiny.  But it was recklessly cut by his own hands, in shaggy, short and uneven waves that framed his face at times, or held up in a uselessly loose ponytail as it was now, when he worked.

      His eyes were a sharp, cunning silver-gray.  Sometimes wary, but mostly intelligent and humorous.  The laugh-lines crinkling on the corners of his eyes reminded Ran of the ones Ken had…

      He was undoubtedly handsome.  It would have been a major self-esteem-low for any man to be assigned in White Cross and not be.  But Ian, at nineteen, was also skilled.  The weapon of choice were sleek spikes dipped in his own special brand of poison.  He seemed a combination of some part of all of them; Omi's brains, Ran's agility, Yoji's flair, Ken's compassion… and, Ran supposed, he was likeable enough (not to mention the fact that he held up a decent flower arrangement).

      But he was, to put it plainly, Ken's replacement.  That had been points against him from the start.  It took him, Yoji and Omi months to trust him, and even then just grudgingly, out of respect and necessity.

      You have big shoes to fill…

      He certainly had the ladies' votes, though.  

      They were laughing over a magic trick he was doing on one of them, making a hyacinth seemingly vanish into thin air, then retrieving it from behind someone's ear.

      "Hyacinths," he said with a certain amount of reverence, being his favorite bloom, "are a stubborn lot.  A certain breed can grow in water or mud.  Others yet can grow even in the coldest winter…"

      Not that the girls cared, really, except when he gave the hyacinth to one of them, on the house.

      That was when Manx stepped into the shop, and one by one, each of White Cross made their respective, well-oiled exits, to go down into the basement and down into a whole different world, a whole different life.

      "The group is called Allwißend," said Manx, before putting on the requisite tape, "much like your own White Cross, but working more on the Intelligence and Reconnaissance side of Kritiker, than the actual assassination teams.  They were sent on a mission a week ago, but none of them have returned… living or dead," she emphasized.

      "Normally," she continued, "when our agents get caught we detach ourselves from them.  You, of course, are aware of the risks entailed by being in this business.  But… neither bodies nor demands have turned up.  If someone is plucking our agents from the face of the Earth… or, if they have decided to switch loyalties, we make it our business to know"

      She slipped the tape into the VCR player and let it say the rest.  Basically, she had said everything that was vital.  The tape just further explained where the members were last seen, and what mission it was they have been working on…

      The first bombshell was that Schwarz was back.  They were the ones who were to be investigated by the five-man team.

      The second bombshell was that, among the missing members of Allwissend, was their very own Ken Hidaka.

      Undoubtedly, Mission Accepted.

      Ian knew of very little about Siberian.

      Only that he had been given the soccer player's old room.  Only that Weiß itself disliked him for being… a replacement.  Only that the kids felt the same, even without knowing the circumstances in which Ken had left.  But there were more questions that he wanted answered, none of which was forthcoming.

      If they liked him so much, if he did such a good job, why would he be taken out?

      He strolled up the steps towards the apartments alongside Yoji, who was thoughtfully silent.

      "Who was he?" Ian blurted at last, hoping to catch the older man off-guard enough to answer.

      But Yoji was never off-guard.  Especially not in the middle of a crisis.  

      "He was a teammate," he said, "a co-worker, and best of all, a friend to all of us"

      "Why'd he leave?" asked Ian.

      Yoji considered.  "Kritiker reassigned him, for reasons that I may guess at, but never be sure of"

      "Are you like, not allowed to see each other when someone gets reassigned?" asked Ian.

      "Sure we are," said Yoji, "it's just that maybe he didn't want to see us"

      "Why wouldn't he?"  
      "Listen," Yoji said patiently, "I'm not in the mood for this.  Now is not the time--"  
      "It's never the time to ask about him," retorted Ian, "I thought he had died in the line of duty or something like that, not until I started bringing the pieces together.  It's like arranging a jigsaw puzzle of one million pieces, with half missing"

      Yoji almost smiled.  Yes, he was like Ken.  But NOT him.  It wouldn't ever be the same…

      "Go to sleep, Ian," Yoji said tiredly, "we work on this tomorrow"

      It was like some orchestrated macabre dance.

      Suddenly, things just start to come together, hideously coordinated and brutally precise.

      One body turned up.

      It was found in a lake.  With wrists slit.  Cleanly, smoothly and precise, from an excellent knife.    

      It had been all over the news.  

      But why take your own life? And where were the others?

      More specifically, where was Ken?

      Another day, another body.

      This time, the man died of asphyxiation.  He was found hanging from tensile wires, so much like Yoji's that it was disturbing.

      By the time a third one came out, Weiß was getting not only anxious, but fearful at the thought that at anytime, they could very well be looking into the dead face of a man who had been their friend.

      The third man died from a well-placed dart to the neck.

      Like Omi's dart.  

      The connection was made impossible to miss.

      Someone was killing them off one by one, using Weiß weapons.

      The group gathered in the basement, mulling it over.

      "Why would anyone want to do that?" murmured Yoji.  

      "Schwarz could be behind this," said Omi, "they have reason enough to hate us.  And surely, anger towards Weiß must be what motivates this"

      "The bodies started to come one after the other," said Ian, "the next one would be tonight.  The question is… where? If we find out how, I think we'll find out where"  
      "What do you mean?" asked Omi.

      "My weapon is the last one," said Ian, "My weapon hasn't been used just yet.  There are very few places in the world anyone can find the poison that I use.  That is… if they are precise and accurate.  And I think they are"

      "Where?" Ran asked, curt and business-like.  If they could save Ken…

      Ian used to do menial work for Delta Pharmaceuticals, a huge cover-up for a multibillion bioterrorism organization.  He caught Kritiker's eye because he had helped bring down the group almost single-handedly.

      But if there was something he picked up from his old superiors, it had to be creating 'designer' poisons.

      At the eve of a raid Ian knew about, he made sure he concealed his own creations from being used by anyone other than himself-- he learned firsthand the cruelty in the world, and that you could trust no one.  It was found in an underground storage underneath a now-empty warehouse in the now-barren compound.

      White Cross headed there that night, hoping to catch a burglar stealing a poison to become a murderer.

      They hadn't counted on finding… him.

      Weiß sneaked into the warehouse, immediately feeling they were watched, no matter how discreet they were.

      It was a frustrating feeling.  As if you were… hunted.

      Suddenly, all the lights turned on, and the found themselves in a wide, high-ceilinged space, face to face with Schwarz and their new member.

      His hair was still the same chestnut, still relatively short, but was longer than it had ever been, their tips teasing the black collar of his shirt.  He was wearing all-black, now.  A fine pair of pants, boots, and a bullet-proof vest blatantly over his long-sleeved black shirt.  He looked downright sleek, with the flecks of silver here and there, where his numerous weapons were concealed close to his body.  He seemed leaner, tougher… lonelier, angrier.

      The initial feeling for the three members of Weiß who had known him, was that he was a victim.  But Ian, with his unbiased, stranger's eye, knew that he wasn't.

      "Schwarz, let him go!" demanded Ran, dropping to a ready stance.  The German laughed at their confusion.

      "No…" Ian said, risking fingers from the edgy leader by putting a calming hand to his shoulder.  "It isn't what you think"

      "He's right," Ken said coldly, "stop being a hypocrite, Fujimiya.  What? Worried about me? I don't think so.  Worry about yourself"

      "We wanted to bring down Kritiker," said Schuldich gleefully, "Guess who was only too glad to help?"

      "No," mouthed Omi, looking at Ken with alarm, disbelief, pain.

      "What have you done with him?" Yoji demanded, thinking maybe Schwarz had done something to control Ken's mind… it couldn't possibly be beyond them, both morally and physically.

      "Sadly," Ken said, "nothing I didn't do to myself"

      "We only had to play with the little demons already in his head," said Crawford, "so much easier with his full cooperation.  It's an interesting collaboration"  
      Silence.

      What was there to say?  
      Ran's mind whirred with how he had dared imagine this reunion to be.  Certainly nothing like this.  He hoped that after a year, Ken would have already forgiven him.  He hoped that after a year, he would come to be accepted at last…

      Who was the damn fool who said time healed all wounds? The deepest ones became scars and scars you never lose.  They only serve to make you uglier and more regretful…

      "You killed your own teammates," said Ran flatly.

      Ken shrugged.  "It hadn't been as hard as I thought it would be.  Don't look so mad.  Teammates betray each other all the time.  I got kicked out of my group.  And when the new guy comes along, they take him in real easy.  It's funny how quickly people change…"

      "This can't be you…" Omi said shakily.

      Ken glanced at him, then looked away.  His guilt seemed strongest with the younger one.  Schwarz saw it plainly, and decided to take that part at least into their own hands.

      "There's one more member of Allwißend missing," teased Schuldich, "Where, where, where could he be?"  
      With that, he left in a run, with Nagi and Crawford on his heels.  

      "Go!" ordered Ran to Omi and Yoji, who hesitated for a moment but followed their enemies into wherever they would be led.  Ken and Farfello… they held their ground as Ian and Ran did, in a stalemate.

      "Why don't you leave?" Ken asked the Irishman bluntly.

      "I want to see you mad like this," Farfello said, "It's fun.  Almost funner than if Crawford would let me poke you with this and lick your blood off--"

      "I've been dreaming of this for a year," said Ken coldly, "You'd better scat.  You're ruining the moment"  
      Farfello looked dejected for a brief moment, then his eyes lit up at the thought that maybe they'd let him poke that little one instead… he vanished at a run, leaving Ken standing calmly in front of a man who had been his friend, and the stranger whom he considered to have taken over what little there had been of his life.

      "Anger," he said, "only gets better with time.  You understand that, don't you, Ran? When the rage vanishes, it gets replaced by this delicious, delicious desire for vengeance.  That's when all the plans start to come, all the calculations.  I've had a year to plan mine"

      "Don't do this," Ran said, both edgy and pleading.  Ian felt misplaced, not knowing what to do.

      "You even know what it had been like for me?" Ken's voice started to raise, "hell, Ran.  Hell.  It's one more betrayal too many.  Kase, then you.  I've given friendship and I keep getting betrayal in return.  Drives a poor guy crazy"

      "Please…"  
      "I want to kill you, Ran," said Ken bluntly, "I want to do it so bad that I ache with it.  Now, raise that weapon and indulge me"  
      "I won't fight you," Ran said, tossing his weapon away from him.

      "Are you crazy?" demanded Ian, his fingers clutching his own weapons, itching to fire.

      "Stay out of this," Ran said curtly.

      "You won't fight?" asked Ken.

      "No"

      "Then you'll die where you stand"

      --

      "I warn you," said Ken, drawing out two short knives, "I'm much better than I used to be.  At everything.  Hatred… it's potent.  Fabulous motivation.  Keeps me alive.

      "But," he said, tossing the knives away, as well as various other weaponry, "let's make this interesting.  I'll kill you the way I had been"

      He clenched his gloved hands and claws snapped from his knuckles smartly.  

      "I'm coming atcha!" he said, pushing himself off the ground, heading towards Ran.

      Ian watched, horrified, as the events unfolded in front of him.

      "Fight, Ran!" he begged, aiming with his spikes.  He didn't want to kill Siberian.  It was painfully apparent that even broken and evil, Weiß considered him as one of their own.  What would he come home to if he had killed their lost brother?  But this… this was crazy…

      He unleashed the spikes, making their smooth, lethal way to their target.  But Ken avoided them cleanly; yes, he had become better.  He raised his bugnuks towards Ran's body, standing rigidly.

      But, to Ian's amazement, Ran uttered three magical words that made Ken hesitate.  His momentum had been too much, that even as he pulled himself back, he struck Ran with enough force to break through his flesh and send him falling backwards toward the floor in a platter of red.

      "No!" Ian yelled, rushing forward to catch the fallen leader, whose eyes had already lost their focus as he drifted towards shock.  The labored breathing was telling, but at least he was alive… and if Ian had his way, would be made to stay that way.

      "Shit," muttered Ken, catching his breath about a yard away.  "Fucking bastard.  He shouldn't do that to people.  It's unfair."

      I love you, Ran had said.  It's so much easier to kill people who curse you on their way.  So, so much easier.  At least that, you deserved.  Ken felt he no longer deserved love.  He had long since been ruined for that.

      Ken stepped towards the redhead's body, struggling for life.  And the man, who was a year younger than himself, trying desperately to keep him.

      Ian looked up at Ken, accusation and anger in his eyes.  "They wanted you back so badly.  I had to sift through the shit you had left behind.  They wouldn't have me.  They wanted you.  And here you are… what the hell have you done?!"

      "Don't be such a prick," spat Ken.  

      "I'd give so much to have what they would so wholeheartedly give you," said Ian, "And you're throwing it back in their faces! He loved you… how could you do this?"  
      "He didn't love me! You aren't supposed to get rid of the ones you love!" retorted Ken.

      "You have," pointed out Ian bravely.

      "What?!"  
      "You love him back," said Ian, "or you wouldn't be this mad.  Or you wouldn't have hesitated killing him"

      "That's a crock of shit"

      "It's easier to hate someone you've loved," said Ian, "when they disappoint you.  It's irrational, but it's true.  Hate and love are very nearly the same"

      "I don't care about him anymore," Ken said stubbornly, "He took away everything, every little thing that I had left"

      "That's a nice lie you've been telling yourself"

      "I don't lie"

      And you said you'd kill him, but you didn't.  And you said you don't care, and yet here you are, looking to see if he were alive, not doing anything to alter it.

      "Yes, you do"

      "It's a lie until you hear what you want to hear, isn't it?" snapped Ken.

      Ian looked up at him defiantly, saying nothing.

      Ken looked down at Ran disgustedly, then muttered a curse before turning his back on them and just… walked away.

      It's always been said, that there was a thin line between love and hate.

      He knew now what that had meant, though he still couldn't understand where he stood, at this moment.

      Hate? That was yesterday.  Love? That would be… too quick to say.  It would be suffice to say he was standing on the line itself.  The most dangerous part, surely, precariously balanced.

      All these months he's been thinking of his revenge, anger only aggravated by time.  And when he had his chance, he blew it.  All because of a rookie with a quick brain and a sharp mouth.

      Ken had walked away from them, feeling inexplicably relieved that the redhead was alive and taken care of by someone.  What was that about? 

      His confusion was genuine and painful.  He has long since decided that he had probably lost his mind already, but why were these rational, compassionate thoughts starting to flood over him again, threatening to drown him in guilt and regret?

      He had come from a place thinking that you don't kill your friends.  Yet he had killed Kase, then Allwissend, then tried with Weiss.  But then again he had also been thinking that they aren't supposed to betray you.  And he had been wrong.

      He headed for the lot where Crawford's car was parked, and where the rest of Schwarz, his new team, stood.

      They all boarded the car and zoomed away.

      No one bothered to ask each other if their respective enemies had been successfully terminated.

      There were things always better left unknown.

_______

      Ran opened his eyes to his own room, the pain in his chest a reminder that he was still alive.

      The sight of Ian, sitting on the ledge of his window with his silver eyes lonely, gave him a feeling of guilt.

      Yes, he hadn't been treated very well around here, the outsider.  He deserved more.  And he deserved answers.

      But first…

      "The others?" Ran grunted, first and foremost concerned with the safety of the team he had felt a distinct responsibility for.

      "They're fine," said Ian, walking over and sitting by his bed.  "You scared the shit out of me"  
      "And Schwarz?" Ran asked flatly, thinking, Ken is Schwarz now.  Did you kill Ken?

      "Alive," said Ian, reading his mind, "all of them"

      Ran fell silent for an infinite moment fingering the bandages on his chest, "He stopped short, didn't he?"

      "Yes," said Ian, "he did"  
      "Well."

      Well indeed.

      "The last member of Allwissend had been found," said Ian, "We were too late"  
      Ran closed his eyes, tired and regretful.  "How could he… this is all my fault…"  
      "He did it to himself," Ian said bitterly, heading out the door.  He still couldn't understand any of these people.

      Manx came by later that day, her steps quick and business-like, though betrayed her inner turmoil by pacing around the basement.  She brought no tape this time-- and, even without having to come, it was apparent anyway what orders she would give.

      "Hidaka is the one behind this," she concluded, "And I want Weiß completely out of the picture.  Surely you understand why his termination would not be assigned to you"

      "Manx," said Yoji, "they had to have done something to him.  He couldn't just… we were friends.  We've been through a lot.  He couldn't be…"  
      "Kritiker sees in black and white, Balinese," Manx said coolly, "the evidence is clear.  That is all that counts.  Siberian, as a traitor, will have a traitor's death"

      "There must be some other way," argued Omi, looking at Ran for some reassurance, but the redhead remained poker-faced.

      "Bad things happen to good people, Omi," Manx said mildly, "Maybe he just isn't who he used to be…" she cleared her throat uneasily, shifting the subject, "What I came here to ask of you, not order, but to ask, as… a friend, if you would consider me as such, is for you NOT to interfere in the process"

      "Well that's a lot to ask, isn't it?" said Yoji crossly, "you want us to just sit around, right? Wait it out.  Pretend it didn't happen, because he hadn't died by our hands? That's ridiculous.  And it's too late for us not to be involved"  
      Ran held his ground, said nothing.  Ian noticed that the people in the room kept glancing pointedly his way, as if waiting for him to say something and yet... he remained silent.

      "What do you think?" prodded Yoji.

      "I think," said Ran at last, "we have been given a mission.  And the mission is not yet accomplished.  This is still ours.  Anything involving Allwissend is still ours"

      "Precisely," said Yoji with an approving nod, "We'll get him back, Manx.  We'll straighten him out and get the real culprit"

      "The orders have changed," snapped Manx, "Hidaka is to be terminated.  If he is doing this of his own will, then we kill him.  If he doesn't, it proves he can be manipulated and is still justification enough to eliminate him.  I want you out of this, Weiß, better to kill one traitor than… five"  
      Ian smirked at his sudden inclusion.  Well, he hadn't counted on… being counted.

      "Change the orders again," Ran demanded in that flat tone, "Weiß wants this job.  Whether or not it is to get him back or kill him, we take care of our own"

      "Kill him?" whispered Omi, "Ran, what are you saying?"  
      "At least by my hands," said Ran quietly, "I'll know for sure that he dies fast, and with honor"

      Manx looked at him skeptically, "You won't fight him, Fujimiya.  We both know that.  If you wouldn't fight him just yesterday, you wouldn't fight him afterwards"

      "I did fight him," lied Ran, "I just lost"  
      "Forgive me if I don't believe you," Manx said smoothly, looking at Ian.  "You were there"  
      Oh, what a shitty place to stand.

      "Yes, I was," Ian growled.

      "And?"  
      "And what?"  
      "Did he or did he not fight?"

      Ian made a quick decision.  "Yes, he did fight.  And obviously, he lost.  This Siberian guy is real good"

      Manx seemed to believe him, and sighed as she too, came to a decision.  "Fine.  The mission is yours.  Kill Siberian.  If it's not done in a week, or if anyone else gets hurt before you act, the mission belongs to someone else.  Or my ass is on the line.  Clear?"  
      "Crystal," Ran confirmed.

      No one spoke until Manx went up the stairs and her steps faded as she walked away.

      "Is this some kind of a sick perversion?" demanded Yoji, "kill Ken? Kill Ken? It feels vile enough in my mouth and you think you could actually do it? YOU? And HIM of all people! You've lost your mind!"  
      "You heard her," Ran said softly, "Bad things happen to good people.  If he pushes our hand, then it will be done.  Because it has to be.  That's all"  
      "Isn't this a change of perspective from last night?" growled Yoji, "You'd let him shred you before you put up a fight!"  
      "That was different," said Ran.

      "Oh? How?"  
      "I don't need to explain myself to you--"

      "Fuck, just say it, Ran!" urged Yoji, "If I have to kill one of my friends then I should at least have a fragment of the answers!"  
      "I had to see," said Ran, "if there was still a part of him in there.  A part of Ken, the one we knew"  
      "And there is, isn't there?" asked Omi.

      "Yes," said Ran vehemently, "Yes, there is"

      Silence.  It made Ian uneasy.  Ran looked at him for an infinite moment, silver eyes trying not to flinch in the assault of violet lasers.

      "Thank you," Ran said simply.

      "Just don't screw this up," Ian said, tearing his eyes away, looking down at his shoes to hide scarlet cheeks.

      Omi sat in front of his computer, stared at the screen but saw nothing.  The implications of the action both Weiß and Manx had decided to take was dawning on him, and none of them were good.

      Somehow he couldn't force himself to think of Ken as dead, by his own hands less so.  He couldn't bring the man he had met yesterday and the clumsy one in the shop together.  They just couldn't be the same…

      "Yoji," Omi said quietly, not really hearing but more of feeling the man who stood by his apartment door, looking at him thoughtfully.

      "You should get some sleep," the blond said, stepping inside and looking at the monitor.  A screensaver was playing, and he wasn't surprised that Omi hadn't been very productive.

      "It's Ken," said Omi, "It's Ken.  How could we ever do it?"  
      "Think of it this way," Yoji said, "Ken understands what all this is about.  If people turn on you, it doesn't matter who they are.  This mission belongs to Weiß.  Weiß don't fail.  Or maybe sometimes.  But we never quit.  He knows that.  He understands it"

      "Good," Omi said with a short laugh, "At least someone does.  Because I sure don't."

      The first step was to find out where they were hiding and tear the place apart.

      But Schwarz, if they were anything, they were sharp.  Discreet and very, very wily.  

      White Cross always thought that they would be the one to search, then act.  They hadn't counted on their enemies coming to them.

      They took Ian on his way home from university.  It had been a late class for advanced students; he was a smart, quick boy already earning a degree in an age that should have made him a sophomore instead.

      He strolled towards his old, reliable car, but a sudden onslaught of energy bursting in his head had him thrown forward, sending him crumpling to his knees and heading straight for the pavement.  But strong arms caught him as he fell, efficiently throwing him over pale shoulders to carry him out-- is there really skin that white?-- he wondered uselessly as he blacked out.

      Ken slapped at Farfello's hand, once they started to drift over the new Weiß member's fine, chiseled face.  It had been strange at the start, but the longer he stayed with Schwarz the more comical it got.  And tedious.  It was like having a naughty little brother, and Ken knew how to handle children.

      The five members of Schwarz, as well as the kidnapped member of White Cross were crammed un-stylishly in Crawford's car, heading towards their base-- a long-abandoned Takatori hunting cabin.

      Before joining Schwarz, the last time Ken had been here was when Omi stopped Weiß from killing his brother…

      The car pulled over to a stop.

      "We make them come to us," said Schuldich, genuinely looking forward to a huge confrontation.

      There were no pay-offs this time.  Not even world domination was motivation enough.  For Ken it was revenge.  For Schwarz… the same could be said.  How could ordinary men defeat them? It was unthinkable.

      The final confrontation would be tonight, at the latest.

      It will all be over soon.

      Whoever wins.

      One way or another.

      They cut his hair for him.

      Ran held the uneven strands on his ivory fingers.  They were as smooth as he thought they might be.  Blackest black, shiny.  There was some blood on the tips; Ran didn't know where they had come from, nor did he want to think about it too much.

      An address was scrawled with a note.  It wasn't very far.  It was a place they all knew.

      With any luck, he, Omi and Yoji would be coming home tonight, not merely alive, but with Ken and Ian back with them.

      "You might have hit him too hard," Crawford told Schuldich, looking at the dark-haired youth lying on the hard ground before them, looking like a rag doll.  He was breathing evenly enough, but there was blood coming out of his ears.

      "He's fine," insisted Schuldich, looking at Crawford thoughtfully, "what's going to happen tonight?"  
      Ken looked up from where he was tying together Ian's wrists, curious about what the Oracle had to say.

      He seemed edgy, nervous.  "There are many traitors in my vision"

      "You'd think there were enough of them in the world," said Ken, troubled.  Pause.  Wait.  "Is it me?" he asked bluntly.

      "If it is," said Crawford, "Just remember.  We took you in.  That's all"

      "It's too bad," Schuldich said, sounding unconcerned, "we can't get inside that head of yours no more.  You're too good at hiding now"

      "Well I learned some things from being around you," Ken said, tying the final knot with a flourish.  "But anyway, you could just about trust me as much as I trusted you the first time I got into this deal, right?"  
      "Right," agreed Crawford wryly.

      "Ready?" Ken asked.

      "We'll make sure everything is peachy when they arrive," said Schuldich, heading for the door, trailed by Farfello and Nagi.

      "No traps," Ken reminded, "We're in this for a decent fight, don't forget it, okay?"  
      "If I didn't know better," sneered Schuldich, "I'd think you still had a soft spot for your ex-buddies"  
      "Yeah, yeah," Ken said, disregarding the comment with a wave of his hand.  Being with them now… it was almost hard to believe he had once been daunted by them.

      Crawford lingered by the door of the room.  "Don't forget what I told you"  
      "Don't get all weird on me," Ken said nervously.  Was the pre-cog saying Ken might betray them? What the hell was he? A traitor three times over?  That's the worst possible kind.

      "I mean it," said Crawford, "I can't know everything.  But if you turn on us, it's another betrayal, isn't it?"  
      "You should know by now," Ken said with slit eyes, "that the morality angle doesn't work on me anymore.  I'll do what I have to, to get what I want"  
      "Right now we want the same things," said Crawford, "satisfaction.  That could change when they arrive"

      "We'll get what we want," Ken assured him, even as he hesitated inside.  His uncertainty only grew as Crawford stepped out of the room and Ian started to awaken.

      He groaned, muttering about a hangover.

      "Be glad you're alive," Ken said, feeling somewhat obliged to give a few… ah… opening remarks.

      "You…" Ian said with contempt, trying to sit up and only struggling.  He reddened with embarrassment when Ken helped him.  "Well isn't this humiliating?"  
      "Take it easy," Ken advised, smoldering a laugh, "You'll be okay soon enough.  Or dead.  Either way, the pain'll be gone soon"

      "So what am I?" asked Ian, "bait? How embarrassing"  
      "Yes"  
      "They won't come for me"  
      "Oh ye of little faith"  
      "They don't like me very much back there," pointed out Ian, "I told you it was you they wanted.  All the time.  Everytime they looked at me or when I did something I could hear the comparison going on in their heads, see it in their eyes.  As if it were MY fault.  You are all so self-obsessed"  
      "They'll come," guaranteed Ken.  They'll come because they always did.  For strangers, for each other.  Even for noisy, intolerable punks like you.

      "You shouldn't do this…" Ian said, putting up the immortal argument, "they care about you still…"

      "I got kicked out by a big-ass organization," said Ken bitterly, "I got replaced too.  You know what they did to me in that group I joined afterwards? They hated the hell out of me.  

      "I replaced a dead guy," Ken said, "they hated me for that.  They kicked me around, made me do the shitty stuff and left me for dead once, twice, I lost count in the span of a year.  Don't look so alarmed.  Kritiker has it's own share of bastards.  They just care about results.  It wasn't that big a deal killing them after a year of putting up with that crap"

      "It's not White Cross' fault…" Ian said.

      "Maybe not directly," said Ken, eyes blazing, "But I was brought there, one way or another, by their hands.  By Kritiker's.  I'll finish Kritiker.  I'll bring them all down.  I'll just start where it's sweeter"

      "You're crazy…"

      "Hell yeah," said Ken, "I'll finish what I set out to do tonight.  They'll die.  So will you.  Or I'll die.  But it all ends tonight"  

      It was easy enough to get inside.

      It wasn't as if they weren't welcome here.

      All the lights were on, an almost welcoming sight.  The doors hadn't been locked and yet, White Cross felt somewhat compelled to pretend this wasn't entirely so easy.

      As always, they went for the discreet entrances, though they pretty much ended up in the same place anyway.  A living room with a high ceiling, where their enemies eagerly awaited them.

      "We got your stray cat," said Schuldich, holding up a bleary-looking Ian by the back of his shirt.  He sagged towards the floor.

      "Let him go," said Yoji, "This isn't his war"  
      "It became his war when he became Weiß," declared Ken, "It does ruin a lot of lives, doesn't it?"  
      "Just let him go," pleaded Omi, "Ken.  This isn't you…"

      "Enough of that," Ken said with finality, grabbing Ian from Farfello and tossing him to Weiß, to be caught by Yoji.

      "Ouch," said Ian with a flinch.

      "You okay?" Yoji murmured.

      "I just said the understatement of the year," Ian drawled, "what do you think? I know what I thought.  I thought you wouldn't come"  
      "You're not that bad," Yoji said with a quick grin.

      "You're late.  But I'm glad you came"  
      "So am I"

      "He says he'll finish you tonight," Ian said worriedly, "Or you'll finish him.  But it will end"  
      "As long as it ends," murmured Yoji, "I don't think I give a shit anymore"

      Ken watched with narrowed eyes as Yoji helped a feebly protesting Ian to a corner of the room, to regain his equilibrium.  It irked him.  He wanted to be him.

      "Is there any proper way to do this?" Ken asked irritably, "or do we just dive in and kill each other?"

      Silence.

      "Let's dive in," he declared, drawing out twin daggers from whatever pocket of his dark clothes and headed straight for Ran, who countered his attacks with a grunt.

      To Ken, the world was centered in this battle.  None else mattered, though dimly, he watched from the corner of his eye as Crawford looked on despondently (disappointed, because he had wanted to square-off with the redhead), and Schuldich, Nagi and Farfello set their sights on Omi and Yoji.  Ian wasn't fair game yet.

      "You seem to have changed your mind," Ken said evenly, as he countered Ran's vicious attacks.

      "You can end this," urged Ran, "Please…"  
      "It's taken me too far already"

      "What's taken you too far?"

      "My mind," Ken replied, not liking this line of conversation, "I can't go back.  I'll only hate what I've done"  
      "Guilt is fine.  It's more human than this"

      "I don't like being human.  No more talking, just fight"

      They fell into a silence as they fought.  But the mind wasn't as easy to turn off as the mouth.

      Part of Ken's mind screamed that he didn't know what the hell it was he was doing.  Another part said it didn't matter anymore, you can't go back.  Another part said it wasn't too late, at least not for his soul…

      "Aaaaaargh!" Ken yelled, thrusting carelessly at Ran, as if the move could assail his thoughts instead.  "I hate you!"

      Ran sidestepped it easily.  Ken was losing his focus, he noticed.  Getting sloppy as his memories tormented him.

      Ken fought blindly.  At this point, it seemed that it was only by Ran's charity that he was still even alive at all.  

      His mind raced, refusing to believe that he was losing.  Not merely the fight outside, but the fight within his mind.  What are you doing? This is Ran…

      The last time they fought for real was when Ran had just been 'welcomed' into the group.  Afterwards they spent time looking after each other's backs, watching over a shop drowning with girls, going deaf together with their endless chatter, eating together, going out…

      But Ran disregarded all that.  He sold me out…

      It didn't even sound convincing anymore.  What was he doing?

      Ian got to his feet at last, queasy but hated being a spectator.  He didn't have much weapons now, but there were always some magical things hidden here and there.

      There were ten, tiny poisoned spikes in each of his shoes.  Hazardous as hell, but it's a living.  He'd make damn good use of them.

      He caught Crawford's eye.  The pre-cog actually grinned at his predicament.

      "You okay?" he asked, eyes alight as he walked over menacingly.

      "A bit busted," Ian admitted, "but you know.  I'm resigned now.  It's a cutthroat business"

      It seemed like yesterday the last time he was pinned to a wall like this, by a blast of energy from a deceptively-nice-looking kid.  Anytime this happens to him again is one more time too much, too soon.

      "Omi!" Yoji yelled, deftly ducking a well-coordinated set of blows from Schuldich and Farfello.  The younger man was pressed against the wall.

      His moment of distraction had been a grave mistake.  A hook got him in the face, into the arms of the demented Irishman who held him in a tight, unyielding grip that had him struggling for air.

      Schuldich laughed, "This is so much easier when the place isn't falling apart over your heads!"  
      Crawford paused from dodging Ian's spikes, to grin at the situation even as the boy's eyes widened, then looked plainly dismayed.

      "Shit."

      "Eloquent, aren't you?" sneered Crawford, "a, check and mate.  What do you do?"

      "They've just upped the stakes in your little game," growled Ran, efficiently flicking his wrist just-so, sending the disoriented Ken's daggers to the air, thumping uselessly on the ground.  Then put the blade of his katana against his throat.

      "Game over," declared Ran, "you lose."  
      But Ken didn't seem to care, didn't even notice.  His eyes were wild and unfocused on Ran, but looking at Omi and Yoji in their fatal positions.

      "No…"  
      He looked at Ran at last, his eyes shaking with unshed tears.  "Ran… Ran…"  
      "Yes, look at what you've done," whispered Ran against Ken's ear.  "But the question is… what can you do to change it?"  
      Would saying sorry be useless right now? Duh.  Right.

      "I was thinking," Ran said, "I'd let you go so I could kill your new friends.  If I did that, would you kill ME? Or maybe I should kill you first and move in on them afterwards"  
      "Do what you want," said Ken breathlessly, closing his eyes.  Tears leaked from them, but he ignored it. 

      "I care about you," Ran told him vehemently, "but I'll tell you now.  If they die… I'll kill you.  With my bare hands.  How fast can you run away and how far can you go, I don't care.  I'll get you"  
      "Do what you want," Ken said again. 

      With an irritated growl that reminded Ken so much of the man who complained about being in love, Ran shoved Ken sideward and moved in on Nagi.

      It wasn't over yet.

      It was the singular thought that dominated Ian's suddenly-jubilant mind upon seeing Ran make his move.  Hidaka was still alive, but that was entirely beside the point now.

      The other man who was cornered was Yoji.  Of course Ran couldn't get all of them at once, and prioritized the worst situation.

      As Crawford watched things start to turn, Ian tossed his spikes expertly, getting three on Farfello's oblivious body.  The poison would be quick; the trick here was that was it quick enough? Yoji might be dead by the time it takes effect, because the Irishman felt no pain.

      But the single golden eye exposed to the world suddenly widened in surprise and shock.  He just… dropped dead.  Without knowing why.

      Crawford turned to Ian accusingly and angrily.

      Those eyes plainly screamed that Ian's poisoned spikes wouldn't be enough to stop this rampage.

      Omi fell to the ground as Ran's blade broke through Nagi's flesh.  The young boy's body crumpled.  He looked so innocent that a shock wave of regret filled Ran's heart, but dissipated as quickly as it had come, upon looking at Ian's situation.

      "No!" Ran yelled, as Crawford drew out a gun and came closer.  Ran was too far.  He had saved one man and risked others.  When were his actions ever going to be enough to keep them all?

      Ken dove straight at Crawford.

      It isn't too late for him to change back…

      Crawford saw it coming, a moment too late, but not late enough to not have an opportunity to fire his gun by instinctive retaliation.

      Ken drove a knife straight into Crawford's back, as much physically as spiritually.  

      The two of them fell in a heap on the floor, blood everywhere though it was a wonder who owned most of it.

      Ken pulled himself to his elbows, rising first, and cradled the dying flesh of the man who, at one time, had been an ally.

      "Traitor," Crawford said thickly, blood pouring from his mouth as he laughed about his fate.

      "The worst kind," Ken confirmed softly, groping on the floor to pick up Crawford's fallen glasses and placed it over his still face.

      Schuldich, if anything, had the instincts of a survivor.

      He calculated the odds, then decided to run.  It wasn't abandonment; all of his teammates were already dead anyway.  It was… practical.

      He just ducked out, plain and simple.  And White Cross… five of them, now? Didn't bother to push their luck and go after him.

      It was over.

      Miraculously, they were complete.

      The five men drove back to the Koneko, to lick their wounds.

      Ken hesitated, but wasn't proof against Omi's master charms.  After some quick first aid and LOTS of aspirin, the group settled down in the basement.

      "I'll go get some rest in my apartment now," Ian said quietly, feeling like an outsider again, "I mean your apartment…"

      "It's not mine," Ken said blandly.

      "I'd think," said Ian tightly, "now that you're back, you'd want it.  I don't mind so much…"  
      "It's not mine anymore," Ken said again.

      "Okay," Ian said with a small, relieved smile, "That's fine.  I won't insist, you know.  I happen to like it"  
      Ken let him go at that, chuckling a little.  

      "I'm tired too," Omi admitted with a yawn, "Ken… I want to go up to bed now, but I'm afraid that if I close my eyes on you, you'll leave"

      "I will leave," Ken said with finality, "I don't belong here anymore"  
      "Yes you do," insisted Yoji, but said nothing else.  He could see the decision in Ken's eyes.  This life was over for him.

      "Kritiker won't have me," said Ken, "Neither should you…"  
      "There's got to be some other way--" Omi said, but even the plea sounded half-hearted to him.  This was it.  "If you're going to leave… leave now.  Before Manx or someone comes along.  Leave now"

      "I will," promised Ken.  "Now go on up.  I have to talk to Ran"

      Omi blinked back the tears in his eyes, refusing them.  "Okay.  Be careful, Ken.  I'll see you soon"  
      "Not too soon," murmured Ken, as they hugged.  Yoji took his claim too, before following Omi up to the rooms above.

      "Nothing has changed about the way I feel," Ran told him.

      "I… know"

      "You will leave," said Ran edgily, "And go far.  Go real far.  Kritiker doesn't forgive.  I don't care if you never come back.  Just be safe."

      "Ran…" said Ken, his eyes drifting to the bandages that still bulked in Ran's torso.  "I'm… sorry"  
      "I'm sorry too"

      "Oh, no," Ken said with a nervous laugh, "You aren't going to steal this from me.  It's my fault.  I blew everything out of proportion.  I took everyone down with me.  I guess that's just what I wanted to say.  That I'm sorry"

      Ran looked at him intently.  "This is the last time we'll ever see each other, isn't it?"  
      "I think so"

      "Then won't you lie, at least?" Ran asked, a smile playing against his lips, "Tell me you love me back?"

      "Maybe…" Ken said softly, "If I were a different person.  If I had been who I was, if I had more time than I did… maybe.  But it's too late for me now.  I don't deserve any of it"  
      "Ken…"  
      "Don't worry, it's not you," Ken said quickly, "It's always been me.  All from the start I've always been the one who was wrong.  Kase gave me hate and I gave him back love.  You gave me love and I gave you back hate.  It's always been me.

      "I have to go," Ken said shakily, heading for the stairs towards the ground-level.  "Don't bother to see me out.  I know the way"

      Ran didn't take him to the door.  But he did go up to his apartment in a rush, and watched Ken turn stealthily into an alley from his window.

      "Be safe…" he whispered into the night.

      Curtain's down.

      Show's over.

      You can falter now.

      Ken's labored breathing was loud in the night.  Crawford's bullet had been true.  Also, to his back.  It takes awhile to die from it.

      He hadn't wanted to die in front of his friends.  His ONLY friends.  But it was a risk he took, to see the sole place he considered to be his home again.  And to fix things, before he left. 

      He supported himself against the wall, and laughed before he started to feel sorry for himself.  Wasting away alone.  This was one shitty death.

      "Stop," her curt voice said, and he turned slowly to face his executioner with a welcoming smile.

      "Manx," he said pleasantly. 

      "Siberian, I knew they'd bring you back" she said smoothly, even as she struggled for control.  A gun was pointed, undoubtedly accurately, his way.

      "And I thought I was going to die here by my lonesome," Ken said, somehow genuinely cheerful.  "Go ahead, lady.  Do the honors.  Feel free.  You happen to be one of my favorite people in the world, Manx"  
      She took a shaky breath, "Ken… I don't want to do this.  Please… run away.  Just run.  Fight back.  Something"  
      "No," said Ken tiredly, "I won't keep you from this decision, Manx.  You do what you have to.  I'll do whatever the hell I want"

      "Run…" she begged.

      "Where do I go?" Ken asked with a sad smile.  "You know… I haven't slept for a year.  You'll be doing me a favor, Manx.  Honest"

      She closed her eyes.  "If you stay, I'll have to fire"  
      "Then do it"  
      

      The silencer kicked in.

      But the sound of the body falling on the hard ground was just as telling as any bullet in the quiet night.

      It had to be done.

      Ken turned to his back and looked up at the stars with his last breaths.  They shone brighter in the country, he knew, but late at night with all the neon lights closed, they shone wonderfully bright in the city too.

      He hoped, dimly, that Manx would take care that his body would not be found by his friends, and that his death would be kept secret.  Maybe they'd know, one day.  But in the meantime…

      There were things better left unknown.

      Have a good life, guys.  Be safe…

THE END

February 12, 2001

NOTES…

1. Okay, sorry for any ooc-ness or any discrepancies.  

2. The title means, if I remember correctly, Latin for "The Way of the Cross."

        
        

         
      

        
  


        
       

            
      


	3. Sub Species Aeternitatis

Author: Mirrordance

e-mail: mirror_dance@hotmail.com

title: Sub Species Aeternitatis (sequel to Via Crucis)

type: series

spoilers: with references throughout entire series

warnings: angst, language, violence, yaoi

teaser: the time will come to pay for your crimes…

keywords: Ran, Schuldich, Weiß, Kritiker

"Sub Species Aeternitatis"

a WKff by Mirrordance 

don't own anybody…

      The wind was picking up.

      For some reason he was acutely aware of this.  The drop in temperature seemed sudden, making his skin crawl.  The leaves rebelled against the trees, swaying, swaying.  Restless but refusing to let go, as if they were the ones moving of their own accord, instead of being moved by the wind.

      Maybe I don't have a right to be here, Ran Fujimiya thought.  The lone figure stood on a slight hill, tall and dark in the sunset.  His only companions were solid stones jutting up into the sky from their anchored places on the ground, like arms reaching in vain…

      Thirty-seven graves from his thirty-seven betrayals.  With them were several others, from Ken Hidaka's betrayals.  And with them, was a funny little unmarked grave.  This little area seemed set apart from the rest of the cemetery that held a lot of Kritiker agents' graves.  

      Or maybe, because he knew the tales behind the deaths, the only boundaries were the ones created by his mind.

      I have no right to be here…

      He knew it.  The ghosts probably knew it too.  So what the hell was he doing here?

      "I don't know," he whispered, closing his eyes as he thought of everything that had led him here.

      It began with a mission (didn't it always?).  Ken got caught.  Ran made a deal with the enemy to arrange for his release.  It was not only against Kritiker's non-negotiation policy, it also caused the deaths of thirty-seven agents whom Ran had exposed--payment, for his friend's safety.

      Upon reflection… maybe things started to go haywire for them when he had made his selfish decision to do as his enemy demanded of him.  It was that decision that made him realize exactly how much he loved Ken.  It was that love that pushed him to confession.  It was that confession that caused inefficiency in their group.  It had been that inefficiency that got Ken transferred.  It was that transfer that pushed Ken to betrayal.  Betrayal…

      Maybe it was some weird poetic justice that made that happen, in the end.  Ran gave betrayal for his love, his love gave it back at him.  What goes around comes around…

      There had been a peace that was reached afterward.  Ken was… Ken.  Always will be, on some level, even if he himself might not know it.  But life was life too.  Ran was pragmatic, if he was anything.  It never could have been the same.  So Ken left.

      I have nothing.

      Just like you, he thought bitterly to the graves.  We're the same now.  Are you happy?

      They didn't seem to be, even with their triumph.  The only gravestone that looked sympathetic was the unmarked one.

      Ran laid a hand over the cool stone, feeling as if he had found a soul mate.  Strange.

      The man or woman who was laid here… gave body, name and soul to Kritiker.  Nameless, honorable dead.

      Ran marveled at the things one would give for whatever it was they desired.

      His senses hadn't prickled until he walked into the closed-for-the-evening shop, and it was so dim and quiet it was unrealistic.

      The eerie silence was irreverently broken by a voice--Ian's, Ran thought, who suddenly screamed for him to run the hell away, before being muffled again, after a struggle.

      He was unarmed.  They were fully-armed and totally outnumbered him.  From the corners of the room appeared darkly-dressed men with stern expressions, skillfully restraining every member of Weiß and flanking none other than Manx herself.

      "What's this?" Ran asked flatly, fearing he knew the answer.  Maybe the angry gravestones would be happy now…

      "You're under arrest," she said, evenly matching his tone, "for treason"

_______

      "You were telling me to run," Ran said to Ian, who was standing on one corner of his cell, leaning against the wall.

      "Huh?" the younger man asked, looking up from a deep contemplation of his bruised jaw.  He, Yoji, Omi and the Accused were all there, in a heavy silence that even the redhead couldn't stand.

      After Manx's announcement, he had come in peace, but wasn't going to be let out of their sight by his ever-cautious teammates.

      "You were telling me to run," Ran repeated patiently.

      "I thought," said Ian, "when they made the announcement for us not to get involved, that what they were accusing you of couldn't possibly be true"  
      --

      "So is it?" Omi snapped, uncharacteristically tense and angry.  

      "What do you think?" Ran said evasively.

      "What I think has nothing to do with this," grated Omi, "Ran you have to tell us.  We have to know.  We deserve to--"  
      "You don't know what you deserve"  
      --

      "Well that's as good as a 'yes,' isn't it?" Omi asked, angry, disappointed.  Tears welled up in his eyes, but he bore them defiantly.

      "Shit," was all Yoji could say.

      "This is one fucking way to make a living," muttered Ian.  Ran tolerated the comment; the short time he had been with the group, half of them had already betrayed the cause of Kritiker.

      "Shit," Yoji said again, walking towards the exit, motioning for a guard to let him get the hell out.  "I need a cigarette"

      Yoji was in the middle of lighting his second stick by the time Omi caught up with him.

      The two of them glanced at each other in acknowledgment, then stood side by side, looking around.

      Omi broke the silence first.  

      "Can you just imagine it?" he asked bitterly, "Before you know it, I'll turn traitor too"  
      Yoji snorted, puffed on his cigarette, said nothing.  The kid was angry.  Justifiably.  A brand new disillusion in his short life.

      "He must have done it for good reason," Yoji said after awhile.

      "Thirty-something deaths, Yoji," Omi growled, "what the hell kind of a reason could it possibly be?"  
      Yoji glanced at him again, then looked away.

      "Times like these…" muttered Ian, continuing the thought in his head.  Times like these he felt more misplaced than ever.

      He's been with Weiß for roughly a year now, and was still unused to their moods.  He had no idea what to do when Yoji left, followed by Omi.  There was rightful disgust, in their part, for they expected much of Ran.  It was true for Ian too, but the pity outweighed it.  Pity? Hardly the word he had ever thought to put beside the redhead's name.

      Ran, ever impervious, was looking at him thoughtfully.

      "Shouldn't you follow them?"  
      "Shouldn't I?" Ian countered, "What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? You people should come with a manual"

      Ran arched an eyebrow at him.  "Thankfully, you wouldn't have to put up with me for any longer"  
      "What do you mean?" Ian asked, before he could think.  Ran found no need to answer, because it was apparent from widened silver eyes that the Weiß rookie knew the punishment as well as he.

      For a traitor, especially of this magnitude, the punishment was no less than death.

      "Not to complain or anything," gulped Ian, "but why are they…um… taking their time? They were pretty rash about ordering out on Siberian…"

      Ran's face cracked in a wince/grin.  It looked too weird to be either one, it had to be both.

      "The only witness to my crime," said Ran, "is questionable, at best.  There will be a deeper investigation into my case"

      "Who's the witness?"  
      --

      Manx contemplated the redhead who was sitting across from her, looking proud and vaguely excited.

      "So he came peacefully, huh?" asked Schuldich, clearly delighted.  "Did you ask him about what I said? Do you believe me now?"  
      Manx stared at him, took her time in replying.  The German had come to her, seeking amnesty.  He was, more than anything, a pragmatic person.  Alone, now, and very much hunted.  Amnesty for some very valuable information.  Manx couldn't resist.

      She had no idea it would be this kind of information, though…

      "I told him what he was accused of," she said at last, "nothing specific.  I wanted more from you before we move on to interrogating him"

      Schuldich frowned.  "We took Siberian and ransomed his life for information, which Fujimiya gave.  It cost you your men's lives.  End of my story.  I've got my amnesty, you've got your traitor.  What more could you ask?"  
      "Why did he do it?" Manx asked him.

      "Wait a minute," said Schuldich, "this isn't MY interrogation"

      "I need to know," Manx said, "You can tell me"  
      "But it will be more fun hearing this from him"  
      "Damn it," she spat, "I'd like to know what I'm getting myself into"

      "It will be more fun hearing it from him," insisted Schuldich.  "Ask him.  I want to watch--"  
      "You know what?" snapped Manx impatiently, "never mind.  Get the hell out of here.  You're free and you're safe.  But we're keeping an eye on you.  First sign of even a minor screw-up I'll blow it up in your sneering face.  Even if the only thing you'd ever do is theft from a candy store, I guarantee you I'll jump on the chance to arrest you.  I'd love to kill you myself, right here, right now.  But I hold up my end of a bargain"  
      "Manx?" Schuldich said, as he got to his feet and headed towards the door of her office.

      "What?"  
      "I think you're sexy"

      "Get the hell out"

      Desert.

      It's been awhile, thought Schuldich, since he was last here.  A lot has changed.  It's almost always nighttime now.  The oasis was permanently dried up, and shifting sands would soon cover the dead trees entirely.  Still, Fujimiya stood there, probably the same place where Schuldich left him more than a year ago.  

      His Happy Place took a deeper sense of morbidity, with thirty-or-so gravestones here and there.  The sands moved but didn't bother them.  These wouldn't ever be buried, even by the harshest storms of his mind.

      "So you told them," Ran said, arms crossing over his chest.

      "My promise," said Schuldich, "had been that Siberian would not know of your treason from me.  I think I pulled that one off, don't you? Ah, well.  We've all learned our lesson.  Crime doesn't pay"

      Ran snorted, looked around.  How could he be angry? There was just resignation now, and some harsh laughter over life and the shit that surrounds it.  Besides, he'll die soon.  All this will be behind him.  He'd have hell to think about…

      "What did you get from it?" asked Ran, referring to Schuldich's revelations to Kritiker on whom their traitor had been.

      "Amnesty," said Schuldich, "all my crimes wiped clean.  Brand new slate for me. And tons and tons of fun.  I'd enjoy watching you go down"

      --

      "Kritiker is one hell of a group," continued Schuldich, "vigilantes who have a kind-of bureaucracy.  No matter how outside of the law you say you are, there will always be some kind of rule to follow, as long as more than one person is involved.  Interesting"

      --

      "So how does it feel to be this close to death?" Schuldich asked.

      "How does it feel to actually BE dead?" countered Ran, eyes narrowing at the German.

      "I'll live forever"  
      "You died a long time ago"  
      Schuldich snorted.  "Think what you want.  I'm the one who won the game"

      "You made up the rules," pointed out Ran.

      --

      "You believe in heaven?" asked Schuldich.

      --

      "I'll come back when you're in a better mood," said the German, as he started to retreat from the deepest part of Ran's mind.

_______

      Interrogation.

      Ran was far from being daunted by the idea; he won't be hiding anything, after all.  

      He was moved harshly into another plain room, with a huge one-way mirror dominating a wall, where his observers would be.  He wondered if Weiß were there…?

      It hardly mattered, he wanted to think.  But he wondered… wouldn't they want to know WHY…?

      His Interrogator stepped into the room.

      The man was slightly shorter than he (no mean feat), with features all at once sharp and fair; a sculpted face, straw-colored hair in a patrician cut, emerald eyes cynical.  He was lean and fluid, impeccably dressed in a dark suit.  He looked just about as much of a secret agent as Manx did (which means he doesn't).  Ran couldn't begin to guess at his age.

      Cool eyes settled on Ran, which met his levelly.

      "I'm not going to mice words," the man said, "you know how this works.  There are people watching you; Manx, Birman, and several others who want to hear what it is you have to say.  I don't want to get rough, but if I feel you're holding something back from me, I will do what I have to"

      "Then you wouldn't have any problems from me," said Ran.

      "Good," he said with a nod, "I'm Leopon, head of Intelligence and Reconnaissance, in charge of your investigation.  I've been following your career, Fujimiya.  There have been no complaints about you at all, save for one time, and that had been over eagerness in eliminating a target"

      Yes.  Takatori.  He had been VERY zealous about that, to the point of nearly going against Persia and Manx's orders to bide his time.

      "That's impressive," Leopon went on, "for a career that spans years.  And very few missions which haven't been accomplished immediately after it had been given.  You had one hell of a track record.  And then, the last surviving member of Schwarz comes to us and says our Golden Boy is a traitor.  We want to know how things happened from your point of view.  Exactly.  For your years of service, we owe you that, at least, to find out from you"

      "There was a mission," Ran said flatly, "Siberian was caught.  He was missing for awhile until Schuldich, the mind-reader, contacted me in my head.  He proposed a deal.  To give him everything I know about Kritiker for a week, in exchange for Siberian's life"  
      "You didn't tell anyone else of this?"  
      "The mind-reader would have known I had," answered Ran, "he said so, and I believed him"  
      "You know that Kritiker does not negotiate on captured agents"  
      "Yes"  
      "You not only violated that law," said Leopon gruffly, eyes aflame, "you have also knowingly jeopardized the lives of our agents in exchange for just one man"  
      "Yes"  
      "It's inexcusable"

      "I know"  
      "Then why did you do it?"  
      "I loved him," Ran said simply.

      --

      Emerald eyes widened, just slightly.  But it was apparent enough that he was surprised, for it was a face that was used to being nonchalant.  That extent of a reaction had been downright eloquent.

      "You…"  
      "Yes," Ran said boldly, expelling air.  

      --

      Leopon crossed his arms over his chest, thinking.  "You know the penalty for traitors"  
      "Yes"  
      "Didn't you ever think you would get caught?" snapped Leopon, "Siberian might have been safe, but agents would be dead, and so would you"  
      "Of course I thought I could get away," said Ran, "It was a secret transaction.  And I evaded arrest for more than a year.  It certainly took you long"  
      Leopon snorted.  "Well, crime doesn't pay, does it?"  
      "Neither does crime-fighting"

      Leopon made as if to leave, then paused by the door.  "Siberian… this was Ken Hidaka?"  
      "Yes"

      "Fellow betrayers," he said disgustedly, "maybe you deserve each other"

      He left the room.

      Yoji rose from his seat in the observer's area and decked Leopon right on the jaw, the moment the man stepped into the room.

      "Balinese!" Manx exclaimed, though made no move to physically restrain him.  Yoji's rage seemed beyond control.

      The blonde might have been disappointed in what Ran had done, but his loyalties were clear: Ran would not be abused this way.  He hadn't deserved the insult.  Neither did Ken.  Leopon doesn't know them, he doesn't know of how hard it had been for Ran to love in the first place…

      "Bastard!" Yoji yelled, about to take another swing on the fallen investigator until he saw Omi's face, an anguished face.  His arm lowered.  There would be just the two of them now.  For him, then.

      From the corner of his eye he noticed Ian, on the farthest end of the room, thought Yoji guiltily, forgotten.  Again.  But just as troubled.

      The three of us.  Right.

      Birman helped Leopon to his feet, and escorted him out of the room for him to 'freshen up,' but it was pretty much fiction.  He needed to cool off as much as Yoji did.

      "Another scene like that again," Manx said, "I'll kick you out of here, understand?"  
      "Tell him to watch his mouth," snapped Yoji.

      "I'm not going to tell him anything," said Manx, "He's in charge of this because he's the best.  He asked for this because he lost two brothers.  One of them was Abbyssinian's victims more than a year ago.  The other had been Allwißend, murdered by Siberian"

      Yoji ran his hands against his face, muttered a curse.  

      "He has a job to do," said Manx, "mainly to determine the extent of Fujimiya's crimes.  After all, the sole witness can manipulate minds, apart from being an enemy.  And to find out… who else might be involved"  
      "Meaning us, right?" snapped Omi, "We're not here to watch Ran.  You let us in here to watch OUR reaction"

      "Yes," Manx replied shamelessly, 

      "You pass."

      "Just they wait 'til I tell them their little friend is dead"

      "You'd do well to watch your goddamn mouth," Birman scolded Leopon.  She had trespassed into the then-empty men's room, helping the agent clean up.

      "You remind me of my mother," came the tired reply.  It was almost a ridiculous sight, Birman armed with her tissue paper, cleaning his face and scolding him.

      "I know those boys," she went on, "they've been through so much more than you.  He's guilty and he will have a traitor's death.  But with all due respect too"  
      "I hate him."  
      "I know"  
      "I hate them all."  
      "I know that too"      

      The door opened to the sparsely furnished room.

      Omi could see Ran Fujimiya sitting on the floor, ignoring the cot on one side.  He looked up at Omi.

      "I understand," Omi said, when the guard closed the door behind him, "I understand why you did it"  
      --

      "I just wish…" he said shakily, "I just wish that it hadn't been you.  That he had called on me, instead.  That--"

      He cut himself off, and fell to his knees and gave Ran a fierce hug, which made an odd expression cross the redhead's face.  Hesitantly, his ivory hands raised up to the younger man's back, returning the embrace.

      "It's okay," he said soothingly, "I'm all right"  
      It was almost funny how true that was.

      They all knew it--he's dying soon.  But he's all right now.

      I'll die a traitor's death.  But Ken's safe and away from this shit of a life.  And Yoji and Omi… they'll have each other, plus one extra distraction.

      Ian paced the observation room restlessly, as Yoji watched him from his seat.

      "You're more anxious about this than I am," Yoji said lazily.

      "I'm not anxious," Ian lied, catching himself and sitting in front of Yoji, turning a chair.

      Yoji watched him closely.  "You know he's going to die"  
      "Yes," Ian said through grit teeth, "I'm not stupid, Yoji--"  
      "What does all this mean?" Yoji asked him, "You're pacing a room, you're genuinely concerned.  But what does all this mean to you? You don't even know us!  I just want to know…"  
      "I don't have anything else," Ian mumbled.  

      Yoji nodded, accepting this.  He looked away, composing his face even as he made a secret vow, maybe in salute of comrades he had lost…

      In what's left of us, Ian, I'll make sure you'll have A LOT.

_______

      "So…"

      "What?" 

      Yoji crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head at Ran in thought before replying to the prod.  The two of them were alone in the cell now, just as Yoji wanted it.  He waited for Omi to leave for some food, finally taking the hint.  For a smart boy, he's kind of dense…

      "Your sister," replied Yoji, couldn't really think of a better way to phrase what it was he wanted to ask.

      "Keep her out of this," Ran said, just as simply, "she shouldn't have to know"  
      "She'll know something is up when she drops by the shop and doesn't see you there," pointed out Yoji.

      "She's seldom there anymore," said Ran, "she has a life of her own now, just as I want her to"  
      "What do we tell her when she asks?"  
      "I got reassigned"

      --

      "Another lie, Ran?"  
      --

      "Did they tell you," said Ran, "when they're planning to plug me? I'm certainly kept in the dark about it"  
      "They aren't telling us anything," said Yoji, "they're wrapping up your case"  
      "It's soon, then"  
      --

      "Yes, it is"  

      --

      "Is there um…" Yoji hesitated, "Is there anything you want me to do for you before you…"

      --

      "My sister," Ran said, finding no other way to express how he felt, always been laconic.

      But Yoji understood.  Take care of her.

      "Okay"

      Leopon stalked over to Manx's office, broken nose and determined stride.  He was carrying a thin folder than contained obvious conclusions.

      He tossed the file, making it slide across her smooth desk, stopping only when she caught it with a finely manicured finger.

      "There," Leopon said, "It's all legal fiction anyway, but that justifies everything.  Not as easy as filing Siberian's case, but… there"  
      Manx didn't open the folder, and instead studied the man who stood before her.  Triumphant, and yet… incomplete.  It had been Abyssinian and Siberian who had taken from him his brothers.  And he, in turn, had been their investigator.

      Things have come full circle.

      "What else do you want?" Manx asked him.

      "His death," Leopon said bluntly.

      "That goes without question," said Manx evenly.  There had to be a catch here somewhere…

      "I want to do it"  
      --

      "Vengeance can only take you so far, Leo…" she said tentatively.  Yes.  One shouldn't let it consume him…

      "Not vengeance," he said vehemently, "justice"  
      --

      "All right"

      It had been about two days since he's last been home and since his life had been turned upside down (again--does that mean it was turned back right-side-up?).

      Ian looked at the brick building, at Koneko, ever-filled with chatting girls.  It seemed like a separate life from Kritiker and yet…

      He sighed, and pulled himself away from his pondering enough to notice a pretty girl chatting amicably with the other women from behind the counter, her toes playing absently with her right shoe.

      Apart from Weiß, the only other people who manned the shop were Momoe (who had already retired), Manx (just for one time) and Sakura and Aya Fujimiya (both of whom he has never met).  When Ran was arrested, Weiß left the shop closed, and yet here was this girl selling their flowers for them.

      She seemed right at home here…

      Oh, God, not here, not now and not ME!

      This was Fujimiya's sibling, no doubt about it.  He's heard snatches about her, mostly when Ran wasn't around, apparently because big brother liked pretending she lived in another universe altogether.  A pretty world, unlike the underground which he had stalked like a master.  

      She has never seen Ian and he has never seen her; that's how long it's been since Fujimiya Aya touched the Koneko grounds.  But of course, she would go home in the middle of such a crisis.  Maybe Yoji or Omi contacted her.

      Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the flower shop to the delight of the female populace, and a curious look from Aya-chan, who leaned down toward one of the ladies' ears to ask her who he was.  Ian noted that she seemed to be handling herself well, despite the situation.

      Ian headed straight for them, with a tentative smile on his face.  He opened his right hand out to her.

      "I'm Ian," he said.

      "Ian…?"  
      "Just Ian," he replied, "you must be Aya"  
      "Yes," she said, and he tried not to notice her right foot feeling the floor for her lost shoe.  It was endearing, but from this close he noted that she wasn't merely pretty, but downright beautiful.  Had Ran's regal features, surely, but gentler.  Warmer…

      But that's beside the point right now.  God, I'm hitting on a dead man's sister…

      "I didn't know they had a new guy around," she said.

      "You've been away for a long time, I guess," he said.

      "I got sent away to school," she told him, "Ran said, to get cultured and all.  But mostly, I guess he doesn't like having me around"

      "Maybe he just likes having you around somewhere else," he said wryly, taking her by the elbow and ushering her to a back room, closing the door behind them after charming one girl into watching the shop for a few minutes.  

      Once safe inside, from her point of view, his mood suddenly became noticeably graver.

      "How are you?" he asked, "how are you taking all this?"  
      "…Fine…" she replied guardedly, trying to find out what was going on while pretending she already knew; otherwise, as was always the case, she wouldn't be told.  He mistook her wariness for hesitation.

      "You have to be strong for him," said Ian, "he's holding up well but he can use all the support anyone can give, even if he may not show it"  
      "Where is he now?" Aya asked, deciding it was a safe question.

      "In a Kritiker cell," Ian said, "Yoji and Omi are with him, as you may have guessed, so he's not alone.  It's getting tighter in there, as people are nearing his sentencing.  I had to get some air"

      "I… see"  
      "I'm not going to mice words," Ian said quickly, "it doesn't look good, Aya.  He doesn't even bother to put up a defense.  God… what a mess"  
      She narrowed her eyes to slits, pinning him down efficiently.  She bided her time.  By now, surely, he'd have gone too deep, talked too much, revealed more than Ran would have possibly wanted, for him to turn back now and retract whatever he had mentioned.

      "Would you mind overly much if I asked you what the hell you're talking about?" she asked.

      --

      "What?" he asked back, the implications of what he had said just beginning to dawn on him.

      "I didn't come here because of some crisis," she said, "I came back because I haven't been here in awhile and I wanted to surprise him.  So, here I am.  Now what's going on?"

      "Oh, shit" 

      "What are you doing here?" were the first words that fell from Ran's mouth, upon seeing the face of her sister peering at him from the door.  She looked like a dream, something far and more than just a little bit impossible.  She looked terrified and determined to be strong, all at once.

      She stepped into his territory--only Ran could make a cage into a territory, she thought endearingly-- and waited for the door to be closed behind her before speaking.

      "None of them would tell me what you did to deserve this," she said tightly.

      "What are you doing here?" Ran demanded, rising to his feet from his place on the floor, looming over her in an attempt to daunt her into answering.  "Who told you--"  
      "I'm here because I have a right to be!" she exclaimed, "And YOU should have been the one who told me you were in trouble!"

      He stared down at her fiery eyes, all at once proud and irritated.  She grew up, while he wasn't watching, didn't she…

      Aya-chan, you don't need me anymore…

      The idea made him all at once sad and jubilant.  God, she confused him.  

      He encased her in a hug, and she contradicted the strength of her voice by sobbing against his shoulder.

      "You're a jerk," she complained, "you know I won't ask anything more when you do this"  
      He smiled into her hair.  "Of course I know"  
      "Ran…"  
      "I love you"

      "Now I know you're REALLY in trouble"

      He chuckled, blinking back the tears in his eyes.  "I want you to be the best that you could possibly be, Aya.  In everything.  Be everything you want, do everything you want.  Move forward.  You don't have to look back.  Just don't forget me either"  
      "Ran--"

      "What's happening?" she asked shakily.

      "Nothing I didn't do to myself"

      "Tell me…" she begged.

      He pulled away from her and locked his laser gaze on hers.

      "There's more for you than this life, Aya," he told her vehemently, leading her to the door.  "You don't ever have to look back…"

      "Ran, I love you!" she exclaimed.

      "She wants to go out now!" Ran told the guard outside, who hesitated, but interceded and ushered the young woman out of the room.

      Ian watched miserably as Aya Fujimiya was led away from the cell, and started to be escorted out of the building.  She didn't mouth a complaint.  For the most part, she looked tired, confused and worried.  

      She doesn't know…

      She was escorted past Ian, but paused momentarily to regard him thoughtfully, before moving on.

      Maybe she did…

      He stopped in front of Ran's cell, thinking.

      Should he step in there, admit his mistake and risk the rage of the dead man? Or wait for him to cool off (and face his rage LATER)? Or wait until he dies and they never see each other ever again…?  
      I must be masochistic…

      He signaled for a guard to open the door.  Once unlocked, he paused by the frame and looked at the broken man within.

      Ran had stood proud in front of accusations and an interrogation.  It took a tiny woman to send him to his knees, in anguished sobs.

      I never thought anyone could break you…

      "I'm sorry," Ian said, voice shaking as he stepped into the room, "It was stupid.  I never meant--"

      He paused, for Ran raised his pallid face and met his gaze.  The violet eyes weren't anguished at all, and he wasn't broken.

      As a matter of fact, he looked… complete.

      You people are so strange…

      With narrowed eyes, the man named Leopon looked at the cell where the man he had hated kneeled in front of the younger Ian.

      The two men held each other's gaze; an intense violet and an awed silver pair, meeting and clashing and… accepting.

      He had seen how it had been for Fujimiya and his sister.  It was… a strange sensation to see past his enemy.  He had family too.  He had… love too.  Different, yes, but so much more the same than anything…

      How could I kill you, when you are so much like me?

      Execution.

      Ran has been too resigned for too long to mind it too much.

      He saw it in the grim faces of his escorts, who pulled him to his feet silently and efficiently and amazingly gentle.  Eyed him with pity and anger all at once, as they led him to an underground, empty room.  Men had been killed here routinely, he noted.  He could smell it in the air, even as there was not a splatter of blood anywhere.

      The men pushed him to his knees, facing the wall.  They tied his wrists together on his back, and offered him a blindfold, which he declined with a shake of his head.  He wanted to see, in his last moments.

      His heart thudded in his chest, and he marveled at how much his body could betray him.  He felt no fear and yet here it was, pressing against his flesh as if it were trying to get out.

      Smart clicks from behind him signaled the arrival of Manx, who had paused about a foot away from him.  Leopon, who had apparently arrived with her, tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

      Ran craned his neck to look at the man.

      "We shall give you the privilege of an honorable death," he said tightly.  No apologies there, and no regret.  Just justice.

      Leopon stepped aside, and Ran found Yoji carrying his katana, with a tearful Omi on one side and Ian on the other.

      "No," Ran said, looking at Leopon, then Manx, "I'm not going to take this away from you"

      Leopon glanced at Manx in a signal, then stepped back as the redheaded woman stepped forward, drawing out her gun.

      "Do it," Ran said, looking at the wall before him and closing his eyes, just waiting now.

      "Funny," Manx said quietly and for his ears alone, as she leveled the gun to his forehead.  "Ken… he said almost the exact same thing"

      Ran's eyes popped open.

      Desert.

      But it didn't look the way it always did.  Not as dark, not as cold.  Not as bright either, nor as hot.  It felt like a comfortable summer, with a quiet wind and a gentle light, like the eve of a setting sun, the brink of an ending day.

      The sands were receding as the oasis came back to life.  Before his eyes his old world crumbled to form a new existence of exuberance and color.  

      The waters rose and cleared, the trees and flowers bloomed.  The gravestones remained though were covered in curling vines and roses.

      Ken stood amidst it all, looking at Ran patiently as the redhead stepped forward, all at once hoping and telling himself it couldn't possibly be real.

      "Ken…" he said shakily, reaching out his hand to the apparition, "You're not supposed to…"

      "It was my time," said the soccer player cheerfully, "It's so much better here, Ran"

      "Good for you," said the redhead, "But I'm going to hell"

      "So was I"  
      "Then we go together"

      "Then it isn't hell anymore, is it?" Ken asked brightly, reaching for Ran's hands across an eternity…

      A clap of thunder.

      The shot had been fired.

      The body fell forward, long empty.

      Leopon watched it all with vacant eyes.

      Fujimiya was dead.

      But the arm of justice is long, and would reach even those who fled it best.

      The wind was picking up.

      For some reason he was acutely aware of this.  The drop in temperature seemed sudden, making his skin crawl.  The leaves rebelled against the trees, swaying, swaying.  Restless but refusing to let go, as if they were the ones moving of their own accord, instead of being moved by the wind.

      Yoji stood in front of two graves, amidst thirty-something others, set apart.  Or maybe the boundaries were only in his mind…

      God, it hurt so much.

      He, Omi and…Ian too, would go on.  They all would because that's how they're made.  But damn it, life was short and if it had to be peppered with shit like this all the time, maybe it wasn't really worth it.  Maybe.

      In the light of an eternity, none of this really mattered.  None of it would last…

      And yet here he stood.  Scarred but alive.  Amidst immortal gravestones standing proudly atop secret heroes.  Everything would eventually come to this.  Death.  And for those who are lucky enough, remembrance too.

      The light of an eternity burned bright with the flaring of human hearts and human emotions.  
      "It's stupid that everything had to end this way," Yoji said in half-hearted bitterness, laying a hand on Ran's grave, and looking at Ken's newly engraved one.

      --

      "What the hell do we do now?" he asked in a strained, tired voice that Manx never heard whenever the blonde playboy was in the company of his two younger charges, Ian and Omi.

      --

      "That German," said Manx, evading the question, "he was found dead early this week"

      --

      "I know"

      "It hadn't been you?"

      "What?" asked Yoji wryly, "You'll kill what's left of us too? Tell you what, Manx.  I wish it had been me"

      --

      "It was my job," Manx said.

      ­­--

      "I know, I know, I'm sorry" he said, "I understand"  
      --

      "Sometimes," she chuckled sadly, "Even I don't"

      --

      There seemed nothing else left to say.

THE END

March 7, 2001

1. Leopon is a half-breed cat.  I wanted the character to be both cliché-militaristic and vigilante too.  Btw, if you haven't figured it out, it was he who killed Schuldich.

2. Sorry I didn't quite know how to end it.

3. The title means 'in the light of eternity'

4. When I first wrote "Via Crucis" and it ended with Schuldich's escape, I hadn't realized I could resurrect him in this last piece at the time.  I guess how the story goes is also surprising to me sometimes J

        
      

        
     

        
      


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